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THE 

GREAT ROXHYTHE 





THE 

GREAT ROXHYTHE 

— i 

BY 

GEORGETTE HEYER 

Author of 

“The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century” 


“ Under which King, Bezonian ? ” 

— King Henry IV. Part II 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 







Copyright, 1923 

By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

(Incorporated)> 



• t 

v 1 t 

« < 

r c i 

‘ c < 


Printed in the United States of America 

* 

THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 


BOUND 

BY THE BOSTON BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

' ' ■ • - '"iy® - 


MAY 23 ’23 1 


©CUT05561 


TO 

MY MOTHER AND FATHER 



THE 

GREAT ROXHYTHE 


CHAPTER I 

The King and His Favourite 

A LARGE gentleman was strolling from group to group 
in one of the great galleries of Whitehall. He was very 
exquisite, this gentleman, adorned with all the coloured 
silks, velvets and furbelows which that Year of Grace, 1668 , 
demanded. A great peruke was on his head, with flowing, 
dark curls that reached over his breast and below his 
shoulders. He carried his plumed hat in his hand, and 
at times he made great play with it, as if to point some 
witty remark. At other times he opened his jewelled 
comfit-box with a delicate flick of his wrist, and selected, 
with some care, a tinted sweetmeat. Once or twice he 
swept a low bow to some lady of his acquaintance, but 
for the most part he was occupied with the courtiers who 
were present, always lazily smiling, and with his brown 
eyes bored and expressionless. His height, and the breadth 
of his shoulders made him easily distinguishable in the 
gay throng, so that those who wished to speak to him soon 
found where he was standing, and made their way towards 
him. He was the Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe, the 
King’s favourite and the ladies’ darling, and his name was 

on many lips- . 

No longer in his first youth, my lord had nothing to learn 
in the way of polish. He was the perfect courtier, combin¬ 
ing grace and insolence even more successfully than his 
Grace of Buckingham. His brow was incomparable; his air 
French; his wit spicy; his tailoring beyond words, remark¬ 
able. Even in those days of splendour and unlimited 
extravagance he was said to be fabulously wealthy. 

1 


2 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


All this was enough to gain him popularity, but yet 
another asset was his. This was the ear of the King. 

For no one did Charles cherish quite so warm a regard. 
He had never been heard to speak harshly to the favourite, 
and the favourite had never been heard to take a liberty 
with his good-natured master. He had been with Charles 
on his travels; had fought at his side at Worcester, had 
entered London in his train in 1660, and was now one 
of the most influential men in town. 

He was something of an enigma. As indolent and as 
licentious as his royal master, possessing strong personal 
magnetism, many engaging qualities, and excellent abili¬ 
ties, he never interested himself in the affairs of the 
moment nor exercised his influence either for his own ends 
or for those of some “party.” He belonged to none of the 
factions; he was no statesman; his lazy unconcern was 
widely known. He never plotted, and never worried him¬ 
self over the affairs of the State. He had few friends, 
and some enemies. The King’s brother, the Duke of 
York, openly disliked him for the influence he held over 
Charles; influence that his Grace did not possess; influence 
that might be turned against him. Many of the courtiers 
covertly hated him for this same reason, but no one, 
for some inexplicable reason, ever intentionally annoyed 
him. 

This afternoon, as he walked through the gallery, he 
found that the conversation was more serious than was 
either seemly or usual. On all sides was talk of the Triple 
Alliance with Holland and Spain which the King had 
signed but a few weeks ago. No one could quite under¬ 
stand why Charles had done this, but nearly everyone was 
pleased. Uneasy patriots who feared the French King’s 
yoke saw in this new bond a safeguard against France 
and a safeguard against the attacks of the Dutch; while 
the fervent religious party who had murmured at the King’s 
marriage to a Papist and at his good-humoured toleration 
of the Catholic religion thought this Protestant alliance a 
proof of. Charles’ good faith. 

The King occupied himself so little with affairs that 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


3 


many of the men who surrounded him came to the con¬ 
clusion that he had had no mind of his own in the matter, 
but had blindly followed his ministers’ instructions. Others 
who had more insight into the King’s nimble, competent 
brain confessed themselves at a loss to explain his con¬ 
currence with a bond which must surely be disadvantageous 
to himself. These were his intimates; men who had some 
conception of the King’s friendship with his cousin Louis, 
and a knowledge of the condition of his private purse. 
They wondered, and surmised, and exchanged glances, but 
they were few in number, and the majority of men thought 
the King an indolent prince with no head for business and 
certainly no taste for intricate intrigue. 

It seemed that the only man at Whitehall that afternoon 
who neither wondered nor surmised but who was content 
to receive the news placidly and without argument, was, 
as usual, Lord Roxhythe. He spent his time turning aside 
solemn questions as to his opinion of the bond by a series 
of flippant rejoiners. He grew weary at last of trying 
to turn men’s thoughts into lighter and more congenial 
channels, and withdrew to the side of Mrs. Chester, one of 
the Queen’s ladies. There he remained, and was exchang¬ 
ing languid badinage with her when a page broke in on 
the gathering about the lady’s couch and bowed low. 

His Majesty desired my lord to go to him at once. 

It was no unusual thing for Charles to summon his 
favourite to him privately, and no one thought it a matter 
for suspicion; not even Sir Thomas Killigrew who was 
unreasonably jealous of his rival. 

My Lord Roxhythe cast an appealing glance at Mrs. 
Chester, and rose. 

“Oh well, sir!” shrugged the lady with a little moue of 
pretended anger. “I know you will never stay by my side 
when His Majesty calls!” 

“Sweetheart,” retorted Roxhythe, audaciously, “I would 
stay by your side an I could, but seeing that I may not, 
how can I?” 

Mrs. Chester laughed immoderately at this, flirting her 
fan. 


4 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You confound me with your woulds and coulds, sir! I 
know not the answer to your riddle, yet if I command your 
company . . . ?” 

“Then on two sides my company is demanded, and on 
the both by Royalty.” 

“How?” she dimpled. 

“Why, Fairest, if His Majesty is King of England, you 
are the Queen of Beauty, and I know not whose claim be 
the stronger.” 

As Mrs. Chester was no more than ordinarily good 
looking, this fulsome compliment pleased her very much. 

“And so what would you do?” 

“I would compromise, sweet.” 

“Compromise! I do not think I like the word. But 
how?” 

Roxhythe picked up his hat and gloves and bowed. 

“I would take you with me to His Majesty so you might 
both have my company.” 

Her laughter followed him across the gallery as he 
walked in the wake of the page to the King’s private closet. 

Charles sat at his desk, his chin in his hand, but at 
Roxhythe’s entry he rose and came forward, hands out¬ 
stretched. 

Roxhythe took them in his, carrying them to his lips. 

“Ye are recovered from your indisposition, Davy?” 
asked the King affectionately. “Do you know that ’tis five 
days since I have seen you?” 

“Do I not, Sir!” smiled Roxhythe. 

“And even now I have to send for you because you do 
not come! What ill usage is this, David?” 

“None, Sir,” was the prompt reply. “I have been a 
suppliant at your door, and turned away because that Your 
Majesty was greatly occupied with State affairs.” 

“They had no orders to turn you away, David! Odds- 
life, but one would think the business of more account 
than you!” 

“One might,” conceded Roxhythe, and laughed. “They 
would have announced me, but hearing of Your Majesty's 
occupation, I forbad them.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


5 


“You think so much of business!” sighed the King. 
“Well, I have been with my nose to the grindstone all 
the morning and I am not finished with it yet. Sit down, 
Davy!” He returned to the desk. 

Roxhythe chose a seat opposite him and laid down 
his hat. 

Charles’ heavy face was overcast. His melancholy eyes, 
resting on the favourite’s face, were frowning. Roxhythe 
raised his brows, and leaned back in his chair. 

“David,” said the King, at last, “I am in something of 
a quandary.” 

Roxhythe said nothing. 

“If I do not obtain money soon I am like to be in a 
worse one. This Dutch alliance is of no use to me.” 

“Well, we always knew that, Sir. You’ve commands for 
me?” 

“A request.” 

“Name it, Sire.” 

“Gently, Roxhythe! There is much ye must understand 
first.” 

Roxhythe drew closer to the desk. 

“This is a secret matter, Sir?” 

“For the present, yes. David, the matter is this: very 
soon I must have means, or I fall. The Commons will 
grant me nothing, nor will I ask them. There is Louis 
. . He paused. 

Roxhythe made a little gesture of distaste. 

“You are adverse from dealing with the French King, 
ah? Well, so am I. I’ve no mind to bear his yoke on 
my shoulders, for I believe it would tax my ingenuity to 
its uttermost to out-wit him. That he would jump to the 
movement of my finger I know. Yet ...” Again he 
paused. 

“You do not wish to put England under his thumb, 
Sir?” 

“I do not wish to put myself under his thumb, Roxhythe. 
His Christian Majesty is very grasping. So I am forced 
to think of another alternative.” 

“Well, Sir?” 


6 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“My nephew.” 

For an instant Roxhythe was puzzled. Then his eyes 
narrowed. 

“William of Orange.” 

Charles nodded. 

“You see the possibilities of the idea?” 

“I see a great many impossibilities, Sir.” 

“You are not over encouraging, Roxhythe. You have 
not heard what is in my mind as yet.” 

Roxhythe bowed. 

“I am waiting for Your Majesty to expound.” 

“It is this. De Witt rules Holland, and he holds my 
nephew prisoner. Yet I have good reason to believe that 
his position is none too safe. Already there are murmur- 
ings among the people. Nassau is always Nassau—in 
Holland. If William were to rise up ’gainst Their High 
Mightinesses the mob would flock to his standard. The 
mob’s memory is never of the longest. In the face of his 
present unpopularity, it would forget the good De Witt 
wrought in Holland, and stand again for the Orange. 
With an English army to back him William might very 
easily overthrow De Witt and take his rightful place as 
Stadtholder. He might even be made King.” 

“And the price, Sir?” 

“Tribute paid to me, yearly.” 

“So you will hold the Provinces as a subsidiary state to 
England?” 

“Ostensibly. Enough to satisfy Ashley.” 

“Ashley. So he is in the plot?” 

Charles shrugged. 

“To some extent. He does not know my whole mind. 
He sees advancement for himself in it. And the Country’s 
good. A patriot, this Ashley.” 

“And who else knows of the thing, Sir?” 

The King moved a little uneasily. 

“Buckingham,” he answered shortly. 

“Your Majesty trusts that man too much.” 

The King’s eyes flashed. 

“My Majesty does not brook correction, Roxhythe.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


7 


“Your pardon, Sir.” 

One of the dogs barked in its sleep and growled. 

The King leant forward again. 

“In Holland to-day there is a strong Orangist party. 
Influential men, some of them . . . ” he mentioned names 
. . . “And a few of the richer tradesmen. Not so many 
of that class. ’Tis the noblemen and the mob who are 
for the Orange, but the burghers stand by De Witt. If 
Louis presently invades the Low Countries, as I believe 
he will do, De Witt’s position becomes the more insecure. 
The mob will blame him for the invasion, and turn to rend 
him. Then were the time to, produce the Prince, with a 
small force at his back. England would approve it, and 
in such a way I might become independent of Louis.” 

“It is a pretty scheme, Sir,” said Roxhythe slowly. “But 
one point Your Majesty overlooks.” 

“What is it?” 

“The Prince himself, Sir.” 

Charles brushed the objection aside. 

“A mere boy. My bait should be tempting enough.” 

“Have you considered that others may have dangled that 
same bait?” 

“Louis. Assuredly. But on my side there is this: I am 
his uncle; England is Protestant, as he is. Louis is Catholic, 
and the blood-tie is not so close.” 

“You are sure, too, that the Prince is amenable to 
bribes, Sir?” 

The sombre look faded from the King’s face. He showed 
his teeth in a smile of pure mischief. 

“Roxhythe, Roxhythe, have ye forgot he is a Stuart?” 

The favourite laughed. 

“No, Sir. Nor that he is also a Nassau.” 

“A proud race,” nodded the King. “Still, his youth 
stands me in good stead.” 

“He may have older and wiser councillors, Sir, not easy 
to dazzle.” 

“I never yet met a statesman I could not bribe,” replied 
the King cynically. 

A smile flickered across Roxhythe’s mouth. 


8 


THE GREAT ROVHYTHE 


“What will you bribe them with, Sir? I thought ’twas 
Your Majesty who required money.” 

“I am prepared to spend some money that I may obtain 
more,” retorted the King. “I believe the Commons would 
assist me for such a cause.” 

“All things are possible, Sir,” said Roxhythe pessi¬ 
mistically. 

“So I think. But first I must know my nephew his mind. 
From all I can gather he is a youth of parts. I would lay 
my proposition before him, for without his consent nothing 
is possible.” 

Roxhythe twisted his rings. 

“And so we come to the part I have to play.” 

Charles glanced at him affectionately. 

“I would not press you, David. I but request.” 

My lord’s lips twitched. 

“Your Majesty knows I can refuse you nothing,” he said. 

The King put out his hand quickly. 

“Ah, David! If I had more about me of your loyalty!” 

“Then, Sir, were I not so favoured,” smiled Roxhythe. 
“I am to go to the Hague?” 

“Ay. You will bear a packet containing the—bribe—as 
writ by Ashley. But you know my mind as he does not, and 
you will plead my cause with the Prince yourself. 
Remember I am set on this thing if it may be brought 
about.” 

Roxhythe stood up. 

“I will serve you to the best of my ability, Sir. My 
instructions, I suppose, I receive from Messieurs Ashley 
and Villiers?” 

“They await you in the room opposite. Roxhythe, my 
displeasure will be very great if you anger these men! 
Already they do not like it that I have chosen you for mes¬ 
senger, and I will have no petty quarrelling! Remember 
you are my friend!” He rose also, and extended his hand. 
He was a very great Prince. 

Roxhythe kissed his fingers. 

“I will bear your words in mind, Sir. But I never 
quarrel.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


9 


“No,” admitted the King, laughing. “But you have a 
damned annoying air about you!” 

“That is possible,” agreed my lord placidly, and left the 
presence. 

Outside he paused, and glanced down the corridor. 
There was no one in sight. 

“Ashley and Villiers,” he murmured. “What ails my 
little master?” 


CHAPTER II 


The King His Councillors. 

By the fireplace, lolling in one of the carven oak chairs, 
and from time to time selecting comfits from a jewelled 
box, was a tall, fair man rather florid of countenance, with 
very arched eyebrows, and an enormous periwig. His dress 
and appointments were rich and heavily perfumed; his 
face was painted and powdered; his air was blase. He 
wore salmon-pink with silver facings and silver ribands. 
His coat was marvellously embroidered; its sleeves turned 
back from the elbow to allow his fine cambric shirt to 
billow forth into foamy ruffles of Mechlin. His person was 
lavishly besprinkled with jewels, and the hilt of his sword 
was of wrought gold with rubies and diamonds scattered 
over it. 

In all a handsome, foppish gentleman, with just enough 
of dare-devilry and charm in his manner to soften the 
slightly repellent insolence that characterized him. His 
Grace of Buckingham. 

Standing by the window was Lord Ashley-Cooper. His 
lordship laid no claim to either personal beauty or charm. 
Even at that time his face was lined and pinched, and his 
manner lacked the courtier’s polish. His dress was plain, 
judged by the standards of the day, and something careless 
in appearance. He neither toyed with comfits, nor hummed 
to pass the time, as did His Grace of Buckingham, but 
signs of impatience he showed in the way his foot tapped 
the ground, and in the twitching of his thin lips. 

Villiers studied him amusedly. 

Then Roxhythe came into the room. 

Both men turned, and Buckingham dragged himself from 
his chair, yawning behind his scented handkerchief. 

Ashley bowed stiffly. It struck Roxhythe that he was not 
at ease. He wondered what the man really knew of the 

10 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


11 


King’s designs: whether he was playing into the King’s 
hands deliberately. Roxhythe was slightly acquainted with 
him, but he saw that Ashley’s bow was not cordial. He 
returned it, making great play with his plumed hat. Then 
he bowed to His Grace. 

And there they stood, Buckingham obviously amused; 
Roxhythe quite impassive, sustaining his bow; and Ashley 
very uncomfortable. Yet it was he who spoke the first 
word. 

“My Lord Roxhythe, we are greatly honoured. Pray will 
you not be seated?” His voice was harsh but not unsym¬ 
pathetic. 

Roxhythe ended his bow with a flourish. He deposited 
his hat on a chair, laid his gloves on the brim, and sat down 
at the table, making a gesture with his hand to two other 
chairs. In that moment he became master of the situation. 

Buckingham stretched himself in his original place and 
ate another comfit. Roxhythe caught the exasperated 
glance that Ashley flung at him and chuckled inwardly. 
Charles had chosen an ill-matched couple for the business. 

“Gentlemen, I await your convenience,” he said. 

Buckingham passed his comfit-box to Ashley, who sat 
nearest him. 

“May I not tempt you, my lord? I assure—” 

“I thank your Grace, no!” said Ashley, curtly. 

“Then my Lord Roxhythe?” 

Roxhythe accepted a violet-tinted sweetmeat, and handed 
the box back to his Grace. 

Villiers watched him anxiously. 

“A delicate flavour, you’ll agree, my lord? I have 
scoured London and not found another maker to rival this 
one.” 

Roxhythe lifted his hand. 

“I seem to catch the name in the flavour, sir . . . 
Champlin—no . . . Ah! Tonier!” 

“You’re right,” nodded Buckingham. “Tonier. I set 
great store by my comfits.” 

Ashley interrupted at this, seeing that Roxhythe seemed 
disposed to continue the subject. 


12 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Gentlemen, we have met to discuss more important 
matters than your sweetmeats!” he said quickly. 

Haughtily Buckingham raised his eyebrows. Then he let 
them fall again, and yawned. 

“My Lord Roxhythe^ will forgive*,the abruptness,” he 
drawled. “I shall hope to continue oiff little conversation 
another time, sir.” * 

“Your Grace still gives me something to live for,” 
replied Roxhythe sweetly. 

Ashley brought his clenched fist down on the table. 

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” he cried. “I must beseech 
your attention!” Instantly Roxhythe turned to him. 

“Your pardon, my lord! I stand rebuked. Well, I have 
had speech with His Majesty.” He sat back, waiting for 
Ashley to speak. 

“Oh, have you so?” asked Buckingham sleepily. “How 
doth His Majesty? I have not seen him in these two days.” 

“Very well, sir—considering ...” 

Ashley flashed angrily. 

“Well, sirs! And is this the time or the place to bandy 
questions concerning His Majesty’s health? We are here 
on business of great importance-” 

Buckingham was moved to sit up. 

“My lord! His Majesty’s health-” 

“Is of great moment, your Grace, as I am perfectly well 
aware! But we have no time to waste now! We must come 
to our business at once! Already we waste time with all 
this talk of sweetmeats and-” 

“Gentlemen, I beg you not to quarrel here, in His 
Majesty’s apartments,” interposed Roxhythe very coldly. 
“My lord, if you will give me your attention for one 
moment!” 

Before Ashley, indignant at the implied reproof, had 
time to do more than open his mouth, Roxhythe had begun 
to speak, concisely, but with the air of one bored beyond 
measure. 

“His Majesty did me the honour of requesting my 
presence this morning, when he did propound to me a 
scheme which he hath in mind. This 1 need not speak of 





THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


13 


to you, gentlemen, for I know that you are party to the 
intrigue.” Here he bowed. “His Majesty further honoured 
me by commanding my services in the matter, desiring me 
to be his messenger to his nephew, the Prince of Orange. 
This I did undertake, and His Majesty at once commanded 
me to seek you out for the further propounding of the 
matter. Allow me to say also, gentlemen, that I am entirely 
at your disposal.” 

“Very prettily said,” commented his Grace, opening one 
eye. “I sw eSk I could not reel it off so pat.” 

“I gather, ; my lord, that His Majesty apprised you of our 
intentions?” 

“His Majesty told me that Prince William was to be 
cozened to our side, and the Provinces to pay yearly tribute 
to England.” 

“That is so.” •*. p 

Roxhythe felt Buckingham’s eyes upon him. He knew 
then that Charles?had made no secret of his intentions to the 
Duke. As yet he could not judge of Ashley’s knowledge, 
but he thought it unlikely that this man should be privy to 
the King’s aims. 

k T see you know it all,” continfled Ashley. “It but 
remains tQ, arrange that you depart in such a way that the 
French Ambassador’s spies shall not suspect you; and to 
read you your instruction.” 

Roxhythe bowed. 

“His Majesty desires you to travel by sea to Flushing, 
where it is believed your lordship has friends.” 

Again Roxhythe bowed. * 

“You are to journey to the Hague, but in such a way 
as to excite no suspicion. So the first day you will ride no 
further than Bergen-op-Zoom; the second to Gertruyden- 
berg; the third to Rotterdam, and so to the Hague itself. 
We leave to your discretion the time you spend in each of 
these towns. It is possible you may have to allay suspicion 
by remaining in each some days. It is almost certain that 
you will be spied upon. If the Duke of York, or the French 
Ambassador, M. de Rouvigny, were to hear, of the affair, 
they would do all in their power to stop, you gaining 


14 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


access to the Prince. When you are come at length to the 
Hague you will in some way-” 

“Which we leave to your discretion, knowing none our¬ 
selves,” put in Buckingham. 

“-in some way gain entrance to the palace. You 

must deliver the King his packet into the Prince his hands, 
and bring back an answer. That is the whole plan in 
rough, my lord.” 

“Neat, eh, my lord?” said Buckingham lazily. “You 
must take care, however, to allay the spies’ suspicion. In 
all probability they will be with you on the boat, but no 
doubt you will contrive to shake them off during the 
journey, even an they do arrive at the Hague to meet you.” 

Ashley broke in. 

“The other matter, which is of great importance, my lord, 
is the manner of your departure.” 

“Surely an escort as far as Harwich . . .?” asked 
Villiers, surprised. “He cannot then come to much harm 
this side of the water.” 

“Your Grace is pleased to make a mock of me,” retorted 
Ashley with quiet dignity. “My Lord Roxhythe, you have 
no suggestion to put Yorward?” 

Roxhythe left off playing with the tassel of his glove and 
looked up. 

“Why no, sir. Unless it might be that I should fall 
under the displeasure of His Majesty and be forced to 
leave the country for a spell.” 

Ashley brought the knuckles of his right hand into the 
palm of his left. 

“You have hit on it, sir! Why, it is the very thing! A 
public rebuff; coldness from His Majesty! It lends veri¬ 
similitude to the affair at once!” 

Villiers looked curiously across at my lord. 

“So you’ll do that, eh?” 

“Why not, sir?” Roxhythe opened his eyes rather wide. 

“Damme if I would!” remarked his Grace. “Well, well! 
what next?” 

Ashley started to fidget with some papers lying on the 
table. His lace became more harassed than ever. 




THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


15 


“There is one other matter which I hardly like to men¬ 
tion to your lordship. And that is—plainly speaking— 
the—ah—in spite of His Majesty’s—I may say—very 
straitened circumstances—it is the—er ” 

Buckingham burst into a great laugh. 

“Odd’s blood, but the man stumbles like a cat on hot 
bricks! ’Tis the payment that he tries to speak of, 
Roxliythe! ” 

“We—leave it to your lordship’s discretion, of course.” 

“You’ll need to have a vast amount of that discretion!” 
chuckled the Duke. 

“Your Grace!—to your lordship’s discretion—how much 
money you should require for the expenses of the journey.” 
He stopped, and glanced with some anxiety into my lord’s 
ironic eyes. 

Buckingham drawled something about the King’s purse 
that made my lord’s hand clench suddenly on the glove he 
held. Ashley’s discomfiture amused him. He prolonged it 
for some moments. Then he began to speak, very slowly. 

“Set your minds at rest, gentlemen. His Majesty knows 
I shall not ask him for money.” He paused, frowning. A 
little sneering laugh from Villiers affected him not a whit. 
Ashley watched him closely. “One thing, however, I must 
have.” 

“Oho!” Buckingham flashed a look at Ashley. 

“May we know what that is, sir?” asked Ashley. 

Roxhythe toyed again with his glove. 

“I require a gentleman to go with me.” 

The relief on both men’s faces was ludicrous. 

“Well, sir!” said Ashley briskly. “That is no such great 
matter!” 

Roxhythe was pained. 

“Pardon me, sir. I mean a man who may be to some 
extent cognizant of the intrigue; who will be loyal to me; 
who will transact all the business of transport for me; who 
will take orders from no one but me; who will act in 
implicit obedience to me. In short, gentlemen, one who is 
trustworthy and discreet.” 

Buckingham stared at him gloomily. 



16 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“In these days!” he said, patiently exasperated. “Really, 
my lord!” 

But Ashley had his finger to his teeth, biting the nail. 

“You hear, sir?” asked Buckingham. 

“Ay. I hear,” murmured Ashley, abstractedly. “Wait! ’ 

“He knows of such a man!” breathed Buckingham. 
“Well, well!” He crossed his legs, and surveyed his gay 
rosettes. 

“You have no one in mind, Lord Roxhythe?” asked 
Ashley, suddenly. 

“I? No.” 

“How should he?” sneered the Duke. 

“Then I believe I know the man you seek.” 

“That is very good hearing, sir. Who is he?” 

“He is by name Dart. Christopher Dart. He is little 
more than a boy, it’s true, but I knew his father well, and I 
know his brother. I could vouch for his character. They 
come of a very old Suffolk family, and they are intensely 
patriotic. Chris came to my house only last week, asking 
me if I had work for him. I did promise to keep him in 
mind. He is the very man you want, my lord, and more 
than ever so as his brother is in the Prince his service at the 
Hague.” 

Even Buckingham was roused. 

“Roxhythe his difficulties fade before this youth,” he 
remarked. Roxhythe laid down his glove. 

“Proceed, sir, I beg of you!” 

“The boy will serve you faithfully enough; of that I am 
sure. As to his brother, Roderick, he was placed with His 
Highness by De Witt himself, so he is not suspected by the 
Prince his governors. Young Christopher spoke of him 
when I saw him. He told me that Roderick has learnt to 
worship the Prince, and would die for him, and much more 
heroic talk beside. If you can use Christopher to gain his 
brother, half your difficulty is gone!” 

“Why, so it seems!” bowed Roxhythe. “I am indebted 
to you, sir.” 

“I will send to Chris to come to see me to-morrow,” con¬ 
tinued Ashley. “Unless you yourself will see him, sir°” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


17 


“Where does the prodigal lodge?” inquired Roxhythe. 

“In Milford Lane—Number seven.” 

“I’ll visit him myself, then, sir, and learn his mind. I 
may use your name?” 

“Surely, my lord!” 

“Then he will run to you to hear your advice, and, acting 
on it, accept the post of secretary which I offer.” 

Ashley saw the wisdom of this. 

“Very well, sir. And for the rest?” 

“I’ll wait on you,” said Roxhythe. He turned to Buck¬ 
ingham and bowed. Then he bowed to Ashley. “There 
is nothing more you have to tell me?” 

Ashley shook his head. 

“At present, nothing, sir. If you will visit me later in 
the week I will have everything clear.” 

Roxhythe picked up his hat. 

“Then, with your permission, gentlemen, I’ll leave you.” 

“One moment, Roxhythe!” It was Buckingham who 
spoke. “We may leave to you the task of informing His 
Majesty of your decision?” 

“My decision?” interrogated Roxhythe. 

“That blind to the French spies you spoke of. The pub¬ 
lic rebuff.” The sneer was thinly veiled. 

Roxhythe looked over his shoulder. 

“Yes. You may leave that to me. I will speak to His 
Majesty.” 

“I am relieved,” smiled the Duke. He watched my lord 
go out, and the smile faded. He flung himself back in his 
chair with a short laugh. “The fool!” he exclaimed. 
“The fond fool!” 

“No, I do not think him that,” said Ashley. “But I wish 
it were any other than he. I do not trust him; he is too 
secret. I would he were more a fool; I should be more at 
ease.” 

“Of course he is a fool! What sane man undertakes the 
King’s most expensive tasks and asks no payment? A fond 
fool, I tell you!” 

“I think he loves the King very dearly,” slowly remarked 
my lord. “Or else he feigns well. Yet I do not trust him, 


18 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


for I think him selfish, and I do not think he cares over¬ 
much for the country.” 

“Oh, ye set too great store on the man, sir! A public 
rebuff! He who has never endured a slight from the King! 
He is mad!” 

“No, he loves the King. But I wish it were other than 
he.” He sighed, and gathered together his papers. “I do 
not conceal from your Grace that I have grave misgivings 
concerning this business.” 

Buckingham chuckled. 


CHAPTER III 


Christopher Dart 

Roxhythe made his way back to the gallery. He found 
it crowded, and across the room caught sight of the King 
sitting with la belle Stewart, and laughing boisterously at 
some witty shaft aimed by Killigrew, standing near. Lady 
Castlemaine was by the door as he entered, in one of her 
black moods. He addressed her lightly, bowing. She 
turned. 

“Ah, Roxhythe!” The frown cleared somewhat. “You 
have not been at Court these last few days. What ailed 
you?” 

“A trifling indisposition, madame. I am flattered that 
you marked my absence.” 

“We missed you at the ball,” she answered. “It was a 
pretty evening. You heard?” 

“I heard that your ladyship was much admired. Sedley 
spoke of a yellow gown, of blue ribands, of-” 

“Yes. And what said Sir Charles of Miss Stewart?” 
She spat the words at him. 

“He did not speak of her,” said Roxhythe, calmly. “She 
was present?” 

“Ay, the hussy!” Lady Castelmaine struck her fan into 
the palm of her hand. “The minx! Flaunting her airs and 
her graces before mine eyes! The bread-and-butter miss!” 

Roxhythe shook with quiet laughter. Her ladyship flung 
him a wrathful glance. 

“Oh, laugh, Roxhythe, by all means! I make no doubt 
you are stricken with the same madness! La belle Stewart! 
Tchah!” She moved angrily away. 

Roxhythe felt the King’s eyes upon him. As soon as he 
could conveniently do so, he made his way to where Charles 
was sitting, and went to talk to Digby who stood behind the 
King’s chair with one or two others. 

19 



20 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Presently Charles rose and walked with his fair com¬ 
panion to the door. He nodded carelessly to Roxhythe. 

“Davy, be sure you visit me to-morrow.” It was affec¬ 
tionately said; the Monarch conferring a favour on his 
courtier. Roxhythe bowed. 

“I thank your Majesty.” 

Charles passed on. 

The audience next morning was short. Charles was in a 
flippant mood, and although he at first objected to publicly 
snubbing his favourite, he soon consented. He was more 
interested in Roxhythe’s account of yesterday’s interview, 
and he laughed heartily at the description of the ill-assorted 
pair. For a fleeting few moments he was inclined to cancel 
his commands, reproaching himself for thinking to send 
Roxhythe into danger. Then that inclination faded, and he 
fell to discussing various minor details with Roxhythe. 

In the evening Roxhythe went to visit Christopher Dart. 

Christopher lived in a house looking out on to the river; 
a jeweller’s shop, over which he rented rooms. On this 
particular evening he was on the point of going to bed when 
the little serving-inaid knocked on the door, and shrilled 
through the key-hole that a gentleman wanted to see Mr. 
Dart. Christopher had already snuffed two candles, and 
he paused now in the act of pinching the third. He went 
to the door and opened it. 

The maid did not know who the gentleman was. 

Christopher looked at her surprisedly. His friends in 
London were few, and they did not call on him at eleven 
at night. 

The maid smoothed her dress with plump, red hands. 

“I told the gentleman ye were like to be abed, sir,” she 
said, with a pert toss of her head. She glanced at Chris¬ 
topher from beneath her lashes. He was a comely boy. 

“Well, I’m not abed, Lucy. But I was on the point of 
retiring when you came.” 

“Be I to send him about his business, sir?” Her tone 
implied that she would find the task congenial. 

“No,” said Christopher, slowly. “ ’Tis not so often that 
I have a visitor that I can afford to deny myself.” His 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


21 


solemnity vanished in a smile. “Will you show him up¬ 
stairs, Lucy?” 

“A great mill-post of a creature all wrapped up in a 
coat!” she sniffed. “And not a mite of his face to be seen 
for his hat all down on his nose!” 

“A dangerous fellow,” agreed Christopher, twinkling. 
“But I have my sword over in the corner there! Don’t keep 
him waiting, child.” 

He tried to think who would be likely to come disguised 
to see him. His friends were of a peaceable nature, nor had 
he one amongst them who could be considered taller than 
the average. While the maid was clattering down the stairs, 
he re-lit the two snuffed candles, and stirred the dying fire 
to a blaze. He was youthful enough to cast a glance into 
the mirror over the mantlepiece, and to straighten his hair. 
It was his own, and he wore it in natural curls about his 
shoulders. 

The maid opened the door. She put her head into the 
room, announcing resentfully: “The gentleman!” and van¬ 
ished. 

Roxhythe came forward, removing his hat. 

Christopher gazed at him in perplexity. It must be 
remembered that he was not long come from the country, 
and had seen very few notables of the town. His visitor’s 
face was totally unfamiliar. 

Roxhythe shed his heavy cloak. He was gorgeously 
dressed in rose velvet and purple trimmings, for he had 
come straight from Whitehall. As he dropped his cloak on 
to a chair he smiled at Christopher who stared the harder. 

“I must really apologize,” said Roxhythe, in his inimi¬ 
table way. “It is quite disgraceful of me to wait on you at 
this hour, Mr. Dart. But I have been much occupied, 
believe me. I am relieved to find you not yet asleep; much 
relieved.” 

Christopher swallowed twice, and stammered something 
inane. The deep brown eyes cast a spell over him which 
was strengthened by his visitor’s strange manner. Feeling 
that his murmured remark was inadequate, he bowed, and 
told Roxhythe that he was honoured. From my lord’s 


22 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


attitude he supposed that he had met him somewhere and 
forgotten him. He did not know the ways of Roxhythe. 

My lord drew off his fringed gloves. Rings winked from 
his fingers. 

“You are wondering what-a-plague I want with you,” he 
remarked. 

Christopher spoke rather coldly. 

“I confess, sir, I am at a loss.” 

“Naturally. I shall have to explain, and I was ever a 
bad hand at that. May I sit down?” 

Christopher blushed. Roxhythe had made him feel a 
raw schoolboy. He put forward a chair, not without resent¬ 
ment. 

“Pray do, sir. I regret I have not better entertainment 
to offer you, but, as you know, I was not expecting this 
visit.” 

Roxhythe took the chair and leant back in it, looking up 
at the stiff young figure with some amusement. 

“My dear Mr. Dart, I can never explain my errand if you 
stand above me so disapprovingly.” 

In spite of his slightly offended self, Christopher went 
over to another chair. 

“I see, sir, that you know my name. May I not have the 
honour of yours?” 

His lordship’s brows rose. 

“I am Roxhythe,” he said, with faint surprise. 

The naive egotism passed over Christopher’s head. He 
stood transfixed in an amazement that plainly showed itself 
on his face. He recovered, and bowed again. 

“I am indeed honoured,” he said. 

Roxhythe’s lip quivered. 

“On the contrary,” he replied. “The honour is mine. 
Yes, do sit down. I cannot bear you on your feet any 
longer. And before we proceed any further, permit me to 
say that that solemn fellow—Cooper—Ashley-Cooper will 
hold himself responsible for me.” 

Christopher conceived that he was being laughed at. 

“Lord Ashley-Cooper is a great friend of mine, sir,” he 
said coldly. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


23 


“A most praiseworthy, energetic gentleman,” nodded 
Roxhythe. “He recommended me to wait on you.” 

Light began to dawn on Christopher. 

“My lord has work for me?” he asked, forgetting his 
studied coldness. 

“That is it, Mr. Dart. Work for—ah King and Country 
if you’ve a mind to it.” He watched the young man’s eyes 
grow eager. “Work of a very private nature.” 

“I can be—discreet, sir!” 

“So Ashley assures me. I stand in need of a secretary.” 

For one moment Christopher looked blank. Then he 
flushed angrily. 

“Sir—!” 

“I am not making sport of you,” pleaded Roxhythe. “It 
is very serious, urgent business.” 

a j_?? 

“I could not trust my present secretary for the work I 
have to do.” 

“Oh! Then it is not for you that I should have to 
work?” 

“I am very sorry,” said Roxhythe. “I am afraid I should 
require you to—” 

“I meant—it is for some State business?” 

“State business; yes, Mr. Dart, that is it. I work for my 
master, and you work for me. That is the position.” 

“Is your master the King, sir?” 

Roxhythe was again surprised. 

“Naturally.” 

Christopher leaned forward. 

“Will you not—propound, sir?” 

Roxhythe drew his gloves lazily through his fingers. He 
did not look at Christopher. Briefly he outlined as much of 
the plot as was meet for the other to hear, ending with the 
part Christopher was to play. He had apologized for being 
unversed in the art of speaking, but it was a very concise 
and unfaltering tale that he unfolded. He explained the 
whole affair in a rather bored manner, and as if it were the 
most usual thing in the world for a King and his minister 
to go behind the backs of other ministers to form secret 


24 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


treaties with prisoner princes. But so well did he tell it 
that this aspect of the situation never struck young Dart at 
all. When Roxhythe had finished he drew a deep breath. 
His eyes shone. 

Roxhythe ate a sweeetmeat. 

For a moment Christopher remained silent. Then he 
rose abruptly, and walked to the window, opening it and 
looking out over the river to the houses beyond. The night 
air blew in at the casement, stirring his fair curls as it 
passed him, and spread coldly over the room. Somewhere 
below a bargeman called to his fellow, but the sound of 
his voice came muffled to the quiet room. Christopher 
spoke with suppressed excitement. 

“I—am very sensible—of the great honour—you do me 
in confiding in me, sir.” 

“Yes,” agreed Roxhythe. “But will you take the post I 
offer?” 

Youthful impetuosity cried yes! Native caution hesi¬ 
tated. Native caution won. 

“If I might—think on it,” ventured Christopher, half- 
ashamed at what he felt to be sheer timorousness. 

“I will give you—” Roxhythe glanced at the clock. “— 
fourteen hours.” 

Christopher shut the window. 

“Thank you, sir. I shall know my mind by then.” 

“You know it now,” answered Roxhythe languidly. “But 
by all means ask his advice.” 

“Sir!” Christopher was taken aback. For a moment he 
looked foolish, then his boyish smile appeared. “Well, 
yes, sir; I could consult Lord Ashley. He was an old 
friend of my father’s, and as my brother is away—” 

“Don’t apologize. Of course consult him. Your brother 
is in the Prince of Orange’s service, I believe?” 

“Yes, sir. He writes very warmly of the Prince. May¬ 
hap he might be of use to you in the enterprise?” 

“It seems quite likely,” said Roxhythe. He rose. “You 
know my house?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Really? Bevan House in the Strand.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


25 


“Oh, yes, sir! By Charing Cross.” 

“That is right. I may expect to hear from you no later 
than four o’clock to-morrow?” 

“I will be there at that hour,” promised Christopher. He 
watched Roxhythe pick up his hat, and became suddenly 
aware that he had offered no refreshment. 

“My lord, you will stay to take a glass of wine with me? 
I have been sadly lacking in manners to forget. Pray 
forgive—” 

The keen eyes rested kindly on his face. 

“I am sure you will excuse me, Mr. Dart. Already it 
is late and I would not put you to any further incon¬ 
venience.” 

“It’s no such thing, sir! If you will be seat—” 

“Why, it is very kind of you, sir, but you must forgive 
me that I do not stay another minute. To-morrow we 
will attend to the matter!” He pulled his cloak about 
him. Then he smiled. 

In that moment Christopher was first conscious of his 
fascination. He bowed. 

“I will not press you, sir, but I have been most remiss.” 

“My dear boy,” replied his lordship, “I have occupied 
all your thoughts for the past hour. No, don’t come 
down with me; I shall find my way very well.” 

“Indeed, sir, I shall!” 

Again Roxhythe smiled. 

When Christopher re-entered the room, alone, he be¬ 
thought himself that Roxhythe had neither sworn him to 
secrecy, nor adjured him to be discreet. He puzzled over 
this curious omission for some time. If it was not care¬ 
lessness, it must mean that Roxhythe deemed him above 
suspicion. He lifted his chin a little. 

He lay awake long that night, recalling all that had 
passed. As he turned from side to side in the great 
four-poster, he tried to argue the matter reasonably. 
Roxhythe had been right when he remarked that Chris¬ 
topher had already made up his mind, but the boy was 
young, he felt himself to be inexperienced, and he wanted 
older and wiser counsel. 


26 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


The romantic side of the affair appealed to him strongly. 
Roxhythe had spoken of spies and possible danger: 
Christopher asked nothing better. That was not what made 
him hesitate. He hardly admitted to himself what it was 
that caused him to draw back. It was Roxhythe. 

Without knowing why, Christopher felt that he disliked 
him. He questioned whether such a nonchalant flaneur 
was the man for this task. Had it been some creature of 
Ashley’s who had visited him, or a sober-minded indi¬ 
vidual, he would not have hesitated. But this foppish court¬ 
darling with his affectations and his langour treated the 
whole affair as if it were of very little importance. At 
the same time his personality held Christopher. The boy 
admitted that he had allowed himself to become a little 
dazzled towards the end of the interview, but now that 
he was alone he had thrown off the spell, and could take 
a sane, unbiassed view of the situation. 

When he at length fell asleep the clocks were striking 
three, and the grey light of dawn was already stealing 
through the window. He did not wake until nine, and then 
only because Lucy was thumping on the door, and de¬ 
manding to know if he were ready for his breakfast, which, 
she informed him, had been ready for him this hour and 
more. 

At eleven o’clock that morning, Christopher waited on 
Lord Ashley-Cooper, and was lucky enough to find him at 
home. He was ushered into a severely furnished apart¬ 
ment where Ashley was dictating to his secretary, and 
motioned briefly to a chair. 

Ashley finished his dictation, and sent the secretary into 
an adjoining room. 

“Well, Chris? You want my help?” 

Christopher took his outstretched hand. 

“I think you know on what errand I am come, sir,” 
he said. “Yesterday evening my Lord Roxhythe honoured 
me.” 

Ashley nodded. He sat down again at his desk, watch¬ 
ing Christopher draw up a chair for himself. 

“And you want my advice?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


27 


“I do, my lord.” 

“The thing is genuine enough.” 

“Why, I had not doubted that, sir!” 

“Oh? The venture is precarious, and the result most 
uncertain. Yet if the Prince might be won over, it 
would be a great thing for England. We do not stand to 
gain much by the Triple Alliance alone, and if King Louis 
also has it in mind to coax the Prince, our cause is but 
the more urgent. Well, well; what is your own opinion?” 

“I think the same as you, sir. ’Tis not for that that I 
hesitate. It is—it is—I cannot think my Lord Roxhythe 
a very—fitting messenger.” He looked up a little 
anxiously as he spoke, but Ashley straightened in his 
chair and his face was in many worried creases. 

“If it were any other man!” he said. “But the King is 
blinded by his love for Roxhythe. To send that man on 
State business! Why, it is madness!” He broke off, 
remembering to whom he spoke. “This must go no further, 
Chris!” he said sharply. “After all, the King himself 
knows that I mistrust Roxhythe. But he was deter¬ 
mined, and swore that there was no other man he would 
send.” 

Christopher, who had come into the room with just these 
sentiments in his mind, was now moved to expostulate 
on behalf of Roxhythe. He realized that he was showing 
great inconsistency, and wondered at his own perversity. 

Ashley grunted. 

“Oh, he has cast his net over you! I expected nothing 
better. Well, what shall you do?” 

“I shall go with him, sir.” 

“I suppose so. Keep a clear head, Chris, and above all, 
do not allow yourself to fall under Roxhvthe’s influence. 
Damme, I’m not sure that I did right to mention your 
name to him! Mayhap your poor father would have—” 

“My father, sir, would have been anxious for me to 
serve the Country as best I might.” 

“Maybe, maybe. Come and see me again before you 
go, Chris.” 

Christopher rose. 


28 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Of course, sir. I owe you a debt of thanks for remem¬ 
bering me in this matter.” 

“We shall see,” was all that Ashley vouchsafed. 

On his way through the hall, Christopher met Mr. Hyde 
whom he had seen once or twice before at Ashley’s house. 
He bowed and went on to the front door. Hyde’s horse 
stood waiting in charge of his servant. Christopher 
glanced at the man idly. Then he walked on down the 
street. 

That afternoon, punctual to the minute, he arrived at 
Bevan House, and was ushered into the library. A spacious 
room, this, with oriel windows to the south, and a wide 
fireplace with an oaken mantel-shelf, very cunningly 
carved. A writing-table stood at one end of the room 
near a door, other than the one at which he had entered. 
He sat down near this, and waited. 

The minutes ticked by; he grew impatient. Roxhythe 
had bidden him to come not later than four o’clock; he 
had obeyed, and behold! there was no Roxhythe. His 
foot tapped the ground angrily. When Roxhythe at length 
came into the room, he rose and bowed stiffly. 

“I came as you desired me, sir, at four o’clock,” he 
said. He glanced at the timepiece a trifle pointedly. 

“Yes?” said Roxhythe. “I remember now; I did ask 
you to come then. Pray be seated!” 

“Thank you,” answered Christopher. He remained 
standing. Roxhythe’s manner was insufferable, he decided. 

My lord walked to the table where lay a sheaf of papers. 
One of these he picked up, and folded into three. 

“Well, Mr. Dart?” 

“I have thought over the matter, sir, and I have spoken 
to Lord Ashley, it but remains to inform you of my 
decision.” He spoke very coldly. In that moment he 
knew that he was going to refuse the post offered to him. 
Then Roxhythe looked up and across at him, smiling. 

“But will you not sit down, Mr. Dart?” 

Christopher sat down. 

“I had—thought to—accept your offer, Lord Roxhythe.” 

The quizzical brown eyes held his. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


29 


“But since you have seen me again you realize that it 
were impossible to work with one so utterly distasteful to 
you as myself.” 

For a moment Christopher stared. 

“I confess, sir, that was in my mind. However, I trust 
I put my Country before my personal feelings. I will 
accompany you to Holland.” He had not intended to say 
that. Even as the words left his mouth he regretted them. 

“Why, that is very well,” nodded his lordship. “But 
are you quite sure that you mean it?” 

There was another silence. 

“Yes, sir,” said Christopher meekly. 




CHAPTER IV 


Flushing 

Thus did Christopher enter the service of Roxhythe 
against his will, against his inner promptings. When once 
the step was taken, he resolutely choked the warning voice 
within him, and refused to re-consider his decision. 

He took up his position as secretary within the week, 
and busied himself most conscientiously with his master’s 
private affairs. For the most part they were trivial enough, 
leaving him plenty of time in which to amuse himself. 

He observed Roxhythe closely during those days, but he 
always found that my lord baffled him. He was by turns 
charming and insufferable. There were moments when 
Christopher’s dislike for him became acute; moments when 
his lordship was curt, or distrait to the point of rudeness; but 
just as Christopher’s anger could not longer be controlled, 
Roxhythe would disperse it with some look, or remark that 
Christopher could not withstand. Gradually dislike gave 
place to amusement, and ripened then into liking. 

Beyond outlining the steps of the journey, Roxhythe had 
not mentioned their mission to Holland since the evening 
when he first met Dart. He appeared to give no further 
thought to the matter, and his indifference added fuel to 
Christopher’s enthusiasm. 

In one short week the boy saw more of town and its 
ways than in all the time that he had previously spent 
in London. He met men who had been hitherto but names 
to him; he grew accustomed to receiving courtier, poli¬ 
tician and poet, whom a month ago he would have been 
elated to set eyes on. His head was turned a little, but not 
unpleasantly so. There was never anything of the cox¬ 
comb about Christopher. 

He learnt with amazement that Roxhythe was in dis¬ 
grace at Court. He heard the tale through various sources 

30 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


31 


and hardly credited it at first. Fashionable London 
hummed with the news. It appeared that Roxhythe had 
taken some liberty with the King, for which he had received 
not only a public rebuff but afterwards a cold shoulder. 
Christopher laughed at the tale. Ignorant of Court life 
he might be, but he was not so ignorant that he did not 
know of Roxhythe’s almost life-long devotion to Charles. 
Never had my lord received a snub. Then came the rumour 
that Roxhythe deemed it advisable to leave England for 
a spell. This set Christopher’s brain to work. Perhaps 
the rebuff was a blind for spies. He determined to ask 
Roxhythe. 

Outwardly my lord remained impassive; Christopher 
tried to imagine what must be his real feelings. He could 
conceive the galling degradation of it, and he felt slightly 
nervous of speaking to Roxhythe on the subject. 

It was one morning as he sat writing in the library that 
he at last ventured to broach the question. My lord had 
entered the room with several papers which he laid on 
the desk beside Dart. He turned to go, and as he did so, 
Christopher rose. 

“May I—ask you—something, sir?” 

Roxhythe paused. 

“Perhaps you will think me impertinent, sir,” went on 
Christopher, stammering. “I hardly—like to—” 

Roxhythe sat down. 

“Of course ask me what you will.” 

Christopher took heart. 

“It—concerns this—affair at Court, sir.” 

“My dear boy, I shall not be offended if you say exactly 
what you mean. ’Tis my disgrace, eh?” 

“Ay, sir. At first I was perplexed; then I thought a 
little. It is a blind for spies?” 

“For everyone. I wondered if you would have the wit 
to perceive it.” 

Christopher flushed, and laughed. 

“ ’Tis not so very subtle after all!” 

“But neat, I flatter myself,” said Roxhythe. 

Christopher’s eyes widened, 


32 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“The plan was yours, sir?” His voice was incredulous. 

“Whose else?” 

“I thought—His Majesty—” 

“Oh, lud, no! Now confess, Chris, you did not think 
I had it in me?” 

“ Tis not the wit I marvel at,” said Christopher. “I 
think it was a brave thing to do.” 

“But then you are not acquainted with His Majesty, 
said Roxhythe. 

There the matter ended, but it left a great impression 
on Christopher’s mind. It was from that moment that 
his everlasting love for Roxhythe had birth. 

A week later they were aboard a sailing ship bound 
for Flushing. Nothing could have been more devoid of 
interest than their passage. 

At Flushing they stayed at the Sceptre Inn, and 
Christopher, once recovered from his sea-sickness, resumed 
his effervescent joie de vivre and started to look about 
him. He had little or nothing to do, as Roxhythe hardly 
ever desired his company, so when he met Mr. Edward 
Milward he was pleased. 

He stepped on his toe as he passed him in the coffee- 
room and apologized in excruciating Dutch. Whereupon 
Mr. Milward fell into his arms, metaphorically speaking, 
and called him friend. It appeared that Mr. Milward had 
not seen a fellow-countryman for months; naturally he 
was delighted to meet Christopher. They partook of sack 
together. 

Mr. Milward was a great traveller. He was even now 
on his way to the Hague, where he intended to stay for an 
indefinite period. He had lately been in Italy. Altogether 
he had much to tell Christopher. In fact he was a re¬ 
markably pleasant companion and Christopher liked him. 

Roxhythe returned next day from Middleburgh, where 
he had been visiting friends, to find his secretary full of 
his new-found acquaintance. 

Christopher confided that Mr. Milward was a remark¬ 
ably interesting man who had seen much, and who had 
much to say. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 33 

“Ask him to honour us at dinner,” suggested Roxhythe 
good-naturedly. 

So it came about that Mr. Milward supped in my Lord 
Roxhythe’s private parlour and enjoyed himself exceed¬ 
ingly. 

It seemed to Christopher that Roxhythe was not himself. 
He was, if possible, even more languid than usual, and 
once or twice he rested his head in his hand as though it 
ached intolerably. Taxed with it, he roused himself with 
an effort, denying that he was at all unwell. 

“I do trust you have not caught some low fever, sir!” 
exclaimed Dart anxiously. 

Roxhythe laughed the idea to scorn, but he excused 
himself at an early hour, leaving his secretary to entertain 
the guest. 

“Lord Roxhythe hath the air of a sick man,” remarked 
Milward, and nodded wisely. 

Christopher strove to conceal his anxiety. 

“We had intended to ride to Bergen to-morrow,” he 
said. “But I fear my lord will not be well enough to sit 
the saddle.” 

“To Bergen? Why, I was to have ridden there to-day 

but that mv horse cast a shoe! I had decided to remain 
✓ 

here some few days, but if you go to-morrow, why—!” He 
left the sentence unfinished. 

Christopher was polite, but not enthusiastic. 

Later he visited Roxhythe, and found him in bed. He 
stood looking at him, full of concern, until my lord begged 
him to be seated. He could never bear an unrestfui 
companion. 

Christopher sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“I doubt you’ll not sit the saddle to-morrow, sir,” he 
said gravely. 

“Art a pessimist,” was the lazy response. “What of 
your friend Milward?” 

“ ’Tis of him that I wish to speak.” Christopher wrinkled 
his brow in perplexity. % 'He—he wants to ride with us 
to-morrow.” 

The brown eyes opened. 



34 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Does he so? Well . . . we shall not be lonely. 

“I did not know—that is, I rather thought you would 
prefer to ride alone, sir/’ 

The eyes closed again. 

“By all means let the man come. What of it?” 

“Naught, sir. I only thought—” 

“Oh, ay, ay! God’s Body, but my head’s a-fire! Go you 
to bed, Christopher!” 

Christopher rose reluctantly. 

“There’s nothing I can do for you, sir?” 

His fine white hand was across Roxhythe’s forehead, 
shading the upper part of his face, but Christopher saw 
his lips curve. 

“Poor Chris! You shall not be called upon to play 
body-servant as well as secretary!” 

“I would do aught I could for you, sir!” 

The hand moved away. Christopher looked straight into 
my lord’s eyes. 

“Then go to bed,” said that sleepy voice. “And 
Christopher!” 

Christopher paused. He was drawing the curtains about 
the bed. 

“Well?” he smiled. 

“Don’t worry your head over me!” 

Outside the room Dart met Roxhythe’s servant. 

“I fear his lordship is a sick man, John,” he said. “And 
he will not own it.” 

The man looked at him curiously for a moment. Then 
he grunted. 

Rather to Christopher’s surprise he found Roxhythe 
already dressed next morning when he went to his room. 
My lord was in the act of fastening a diamond pin in his 
cravat when the tap fell on the door, and his glance as 
he met Christopher’s eyes in the mirror was one of pure 
amusement. 

“You thought to find me abed, my friend,” he remarked. 

“Yes,” admitted Christopher. “But I rejoice to find you 
up. You are better, sir?” 

“1 am well enough,” shrugged his lordship. He gave 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


35 


a final touch to his ribands, and turned. “Well, to 
breakfast—and the amiable Mr. Milward.” 

“You had rather he did not ride with us?” asked 
Christopher quickly. 

“On the contrary,” smiled Roxhythe. 

Thus it came to pass that Mr. Milward joined the little 
cavalcade and did much to beguile the tedium of the jour¬ 
ney with his sparkling conversation. He had a fair 
knowledge of the country and he spoke Dutch perfectly, 
so Roxhythe, whose Dutch was fluent enough but hopelessly 
marred by his English accent, allowed him to parley with 
the landlords of the inns at which they halted. 

Christopher, whose first visit abroad this was, greatly 
enjoyed the ride. He drank in every fresh sight and sound 
with avidity; nothing escaped his notice; his eyes were on 
everything. Roxhythe regarded him thoughtfully. 

Now and again Christopher glanced at his lordship with 
a worried eye. He saw how he flagged, how weary were 
his movements, but guessing that Roxhythe did not wish 
him to call attention to his indisposition, he held his peace. 

For some time Roxhythe talked inanities to Mr. Milward. 
Christopher wished that he need not appear so foolish, 
and fretted. The lazy eyes never looked his way. 

Presently Roxhythe spoke of his disgrace at Court. 
Mr. Milward’s tact was most praiseworthy. Roxhythe 
explained that he must needs absent himself from White¬ 
hall till the storm should have blown over. He told 
Mr. Milward that he was desirous of pressing on to the 
Hague where he intended to visit all his old friends. 
Mr. Milward was all interest. Friends made, no doubt, 
during the period of his exile with the King? Roxhythe 
nodded pensively, and proceeded to expatiate on the 
subject. 

Christopher saw the half-veiled scorn on Milward’s face 
and fumed inwardly. Roxhythe continued to talk. 

And so at length they arrived at Bergen-op-Zoom. 
Roxhythe was worn out and he excused himself from 
appearing at the supper-table. 

Milward and Christopher dined alone. Christopher 


36 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


thought that he detected a patronizing note in Mr. 
Milward’s voice when he spoke of Roxhythe. He decided 
that he no longer liked Mr. Milward. As soon as he could 
he left him and went upstairs to Roxhythe’s room. 

My lord was seated before the fire, wrapped in a 
gorgeous dressing-gown. The remains of supper stood at 
his elbow. 

“Sir, you cannot ride to-morrow,’' said Christopher 
firmly. 

The arched brows rose. 

“So!” said Roxhythe politely. 

“You may say what you will, sir, but I know you have 
the fever, and I will not let you ride until you are well.” 

“Why, that is very entertaining—Mr. Dart.” 

Christopher reddened. 

“You think me impertinent, sir, but—” 

“No. Over-zealous, and—importunate.” 

“Nevertheless, sir, you do not travel to-morrow.” 

My lord fingered his peruke, his eyes grown hard as 
steel. 

“I see you will have it, Mr. Dart. You force me to 
remind you that you are here to obey without question.” 

Christopher had much ado to choke back his anger. 

“But, sir, I cannot see that our hurry is so—” 

“I think there is no need to pursue the subject,” said 
Roxhythe. 

Christopher drew himself up. 

“You are right, Lord Roxhythe; there is no need. You 
will not find me over-solicitous again.” 

“It is outside your part,” agreed Roxhythe. He leant 
back in his chair, closing his eyes. 

Christopher seethed inwardly. 

“Then, if you have no commands for me, sir, I’ll retire.” 
Nothing could have been colder than that hurt young voice. 
My lord said nothing. 

Christopher was very youthful; it was all he could do to 
refrain from slamming the door as he went out. He was 
furious that Roxhythe should treat him thus. He told 
himself that he had been right when he dubbed his lord- 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


37 


ship insufferable; not easily would he be won over again. 

Relations were strained between them next morning. 
Christopher treated Roxhythe with punctilious politeness, 
and addressed all his conversation to Milward. Sur¬ 
reptitiously he watched my lord, and more than once he 
wondered whether he would last the journey. Roxhythe 
rode in silence, looking straight between his horse’s ears. 
They halted very few times upon the way, and dismounted 
not at all, so Christopher was not surprised when, at 
Gertruydenberg, which was their destination, Roxhythe, 
having dismounted, reeled, and would have fallen but for 
his prompt assistance. He helped him into the inn and 
gave him into John’s care. When he had arranged 
for the stabling of the horses, and changed his boots, 
he visited my lord in bed and spoke with ill-concealed 
triumph. 

“Do you wish me to fetch an apothecary, sir, or shall 
you ride to-morrow?” 

“Neither,” said Roxhythe, his handkerchief to his mouth. 
“You’ll—make my—apologies to the—amiable Mr. 
Milward—and say that I shall—hope to meet him—at the 
Poisson d’Or Inn at the Hague. Odd rot! my head is like 
to split!” 

“I am grieved, sir,” said Christopher primly. 

Milward awaited him downstairs. 

“My lord is worse?” 

Christopher shook his head. 

“He’ll not ride to-morrow, nor yet the next day. He is a 
sick man.” 

“Oh!” said Milward uncertainly. His eyes searched 
Christopher’s face. 

“He bids me tell you that he is sorry to break up our 
party, but he hopes to see you at the Poisson d’Or at the 
Hague.” 

“Oh!” said Milward again. “I hope so too.” 

So Mr. Milward departed next day in solitary state, very 
loth to leave his travelling companions, but looking for¬ 
ward to seeing them at the Hague. 

Watching him ride away, Christopher felt suddenly very 


38 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


lonely. He wished that he had not fallen out with Rox- 
hythe. He walked slowly back into the house. 

As he passed through the crowded coffee-room, he paused 
to survey the occupants. For the most part they were dull- 
looking burghers, and did not interest him, but in one 
corner, by the window, sat two men who attracted his 
attention. They were playing dominoes, and at first, Chris¬ 
topher watched out of idle curiosity. Then he studied the 
men’s faces. It struck him that the one nearest the window 
was vaguely familiar. He racked his brains in the effort 
to remember where he had seen him before, but with no 
success. He concluded that he must be mistaken when the 
man called an order to the landlord in excellent Dutch. 

He went upstairs, feeling very depressed. 

Instead of finding Roxhythe in bed as he had expected, 
he found him in his dressing-gown, writing. He stared in 
amazement, for Roxhythe had no longer the air of a sick 
man. His person had lost its languor, his eyes their sleep¬ 
iness. Roxhythe raised them as he entered, and the boy 
was startled by their unaccustomed keenness. 

“John!” Roxhythe addressed his servant curtly. 

The man came forward, holding one of his master’s 
perukes in his hand. Roxhythe’s head was bent over his 
work. 

“I wish to be private with Mr. Dart.” 

Christopher watched John go out, marvelling at this 
change in Roxhythe. 

As the door closed, my lord glanced up quickly. 

“Sit down, Christopher.” 

So he was restored to favour? Christopher drew up a 
chair, reflecting that if anyone had the right to be mag¬ 
nanimous over the late contretemps it was himself. How¬ 
ever, he was growing accustomed to the ways of Roxhythe, 
and he was not so indignant as he would once have been. 

For a few moments Roxhythe’s hand continued to travel 
to and fro across the parchment, but he was only a short 
while finishing. He pushed the paper away, and leaned 
back in his seat. 

"‘Poor Chris! I owe you an explanation, eh?” The tone 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


39 


was so winning that the remaining shreds of Christopher’s 
rancour fled. 

“I do confess, sir—I am at a loss.” 

“Of course you are. Has Milward departed?” 

“Ay, sir. I sped him on his way just before I came to 
you.” 

“And you gave him my message?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And you showed him your concern for my health?” 

“I thought it best to counterfeit unconcern, sir.” 

Roxhythe’s eyelids drooped suddenly. His mouth 
twitched. 

“Very good, Chris. What of the other guests?” 

Christopher looked up, bewildered. 

“What of them, sir?’ 

“Describe them.” 

Understanding dawned on the boy. He described the 
people he had seen in the coffee-room very readily. Then 
he remembered the man by the window, playing dominoes. 
He paused, cudgelling his brains anew. Roxhythe sat still 
watching him. 

Suddenly Christopher started up. 

“Odd’s body! Of course I know!” 

“Well?” Roxhythe had fallen back into his old drawl. 

“At Ashley’s that day! Outside with the horse!” 

“My dear Chris!” expostulated Roxhythe. 

Christopher sat down again, laughing a little. 

“I had forgotten you did not know! It was the day I— 
you engaged me. I had been to see Lord Ashley, and as I 
came out I met Mr. Hyde in the hall. I thought nothing of 
it at the time but I remarked his servant, outside. He was 
holding Mr. Hyde’s horse and ’tis he downstairs!” 

“You infer—” 

“Why, sir, Mr. Hyde is the Duke of York’s brother-in- 
law! The man is a spy!” 

Roxhythe nodded casually. 

“Is he of medium height with a bulbous nose and light 
eyebrows?” 

“Well, yes!” admitted Christopher, smiling. 


40 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Ah! I wondered.” 

“When have you seen him, sir?” 

“At Flushing the other day.” 

Christopher stared at him, open-mouthed. 

“Yet I did not!” 

“No? But you were not on the look-out.” 

“I—I hardly thought that you were!” Christopher 
blurted out. 

“I am old in intrigue, my child,” said Roxhythe. “So he 
is a creature of Hyde’s? Well. Mil ward, then, is probably 
in French pay.” 

“Milward!” Up started Christopher again. “I—never 
—thought—of—that! Why—why what a dolt I am! Of 
course Milward is a spy! Why did you not tell me, sir? 
Warn me?” 

“You would have been less useful,” explained Roxhythe. 

“But I might have let fall anything! Had you told me I 
had been on my guard.” 

“Precisely,” nodded his lordship. “And you are young 
in intrigue.” 

“Oh!” said Christopher rather blankly. He thought for 
a moment. “Did you but feign sickness, sir?” 

“To shake him off; ay.” 

“Then why did you not remain at Bergen yesterday? 
Why come here? He would not have suspected, for indeed 
you had the look of a sick man.” 

“Because I had laid my plans otherwise—which plans 
you, my young hothead, did your utmost to o’erset.” 

The ready colour rose to Christopher’s cheeks. 

“I am sorry, sir. But I did not know. Is it possible 
that you foresaw all this?” 

“It was so obvious,” sighed his lordship. 

“Was it, sir?” asked Christopher admiringly. “And 
what now? Or—or am I to be kept in the dark?” He 
spoke deferentially. 

“No, I am going to expound.” My lord lifted up a quill, 
and surveyed it idly. “To-morrow I keep my room; on 
Wednesday we travel by coach to Rotterdam. I am afraid 
I shall be ill again, Chris. You will be suitably perturbed, 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


41 


and you will fetch a certain Mynheer de Staal, an 
apothecary, and a friend of mine. He will give it out that 
I am suffering from a low fever and must not be disturbed. 
I shall make my escape by way of the window at night and 
proceed to de Staal’s house where I shall wait till morning. 
Then I shall ride to the Hague, leaving you and John to 
trick the spy into thinking me abed. De Staal will come 
every day; I can trust him. At the Hague, I shall stay at 
the Three Fishers, and, with the aid of your brother, gain 
access to the Prince, when I shall lay His Majesty’s propo¬ 
sition before him. That done, and the Prince his answer 
given, I return to Rotterdam, and recover from the fever. 
For the rest it is easy. We proceed to the Hague; we meet 
our friend Milward. Presently, behold! His Majesty has 
forgiven me! We return to London. I think the amiable 
Mr. Milward will be perplexed.” 

Christopher’s eyes glowed. 

“It is a marvellously well thought-out scheme, sir. But 
I am afraid.” 

“On what score?” 

“You may be discovered. The French spies may have 
orders to prevent your gaining access to the Prince at any 
cost.” 

Roxhythe’s lips curved haughtily. 

“They dare not.” 

“Dare not?” 

“I am Roxhythe.” 

“Then you think they would not murder you?” 

“I know it. They dare not touch me. They are not 
certain on any point concerning this expedition. They 
suspect, but they cannot molest me on their suspicions. 
Had it been a lesser man, they might have dared. But I— 
I am Roxhythe.” 

“I see,” said Christopher, abashed. 


CHAPTER V 


Mynheer de Staal 

During the coach journey to Rotterdam, Christopher 
suffered from suppressed excitement, much to Roxhythe s 
amusement. 

As soon as they arrived at the inn Roxhythe retired to his 
room, leaving Christopher to explain to mine host that his 
lordship was most unwell and must be kept very quiet. At 
first the landlord was not desirous of having a sick man in 
his house, but when it was clearly borne in upon him that 
Roxhythe was an English milor’ and would pay lavishly, 
his objections faded. 

Christopher repaired to Roxhythe’s room, and found him 
in the act of writing to de Staal. 

My lord refused his proffered services, and finished the 
letter with a flourish. 

“Tell the landlord to have it conveyed to 19, Prinsen 
Straat, Chris.” 

“I will take it, sir.” 

“My dear boy, do as I bid you.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Christopher, chastened, and bore it off. 

“Has M. the Spy arrived?” asked Roxhythe on his 
return. 

“Not yet, sir.” Christopher shook his head. “I can see 
him nowhere.” 

“I should be sorry if de Staal arrived before him,” 
remarked my lord. 

Presently Christopher went downstairs again, on some 
pretext or other, and took a casual survey of the coffee- 
room. The spy was not there, but as Christopher turned to 
go, horses’ hoofs sounded on the cobble-stones without. 
Feeling that he was very deep in intrigue, Christopher 
affected to take no notice and strolled towards the stairs. 

“Party o’ three,” rumbled the landlord, coming out of an 

42 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


43 


inner room. “Plague take them, we’re nearly full already.” 

He waddled away to the door and set it wide. Through 
it Christopher caught a glimpse of the new arrivals. Two 
of them had their backs to him, the third came forward to 
speak with mine host. He was plainly dressed and emi¬ 
nently respectable. Christopher did not know him at all. 
Then one of the other men turned, and he saw that it was 
the spy. He went upstairs with forced calmness, but his 
heart was bounding within him, and his eyes, when he 
burst in upon Roxhythe, sparkled and glowed with excite¬ 
ment. 

“Fiend seize you, Christopher! What now?” protested 
Roxhythe, opening one heavy eyelid. 

“He hath arrived!” 

The other eye opened with an effort. 

“Hath he indeed?” mocked Roxhythe. “What shall we 
do?” 

“Nay!” blushed Christopher. “But you must admit that 
’tis monstrous exciting, sir!” 

My lord yawned and prepared to go asleep again. 

“ ’Tis all a damned plaguey nuisance,” lie murmured. 
“And I would I were at home.” 

“So do not I,” retorted Christopher. “I swear I am 
enjoying myself as I have never done before. I marvel that 
you can go to sleep in this fashion!” 

“I cannot with so much chatter in my ear,” complained 
his lordship. He opened his eyes to watch Christopher 
laugh. He always averred that to see Chris laugh afforded 
him much pleasure. 

“Well, may I go out, sir?” asked Dart impatiently. 

“Bv all means. You’ll find Rotterdam dull and un- 
✓ 

profitable, but don’t let that dissuade you.” 

“I’m not so blind that I cannot see from the window 
what a quaint place it is,” answered Christopher. He 
walked to the door. “I wish you might come with me, sir.” 

“Go away!” begged Roxhythe. 

Christopher found Rotterdam a prosperous town. He 
walked about its streets for some time, and in the course of 
his peregrinations, met a fat tradesman with whom he had 


44 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


speech. He wanted to hear the tradesman’s views on State 
Affairs, and what his feelings were towards the Prince of 
Orange. It seemed that the man was a butcher. He gave 
Christopher a long account of the price of meat. He 
deplored the fact that three of his bullocks, all very fine 
and in their prime, had lately sickened and died of a 
mysterious disease. He had dark suspicions that this was 
the work of a certain enemy of his who lived at the other 
end of the town and boasted that his custom was far greater 
than Mynheer Dagvelt’s. Christopher, only half compre¬ 
hending, tried in broken Dutch to bring the conversation 
round to the Prince. Mynheer Dagvelt told him that his 
neighbour had had a spite against him from the day that 
two of his customers left him to deal with the far superior 
Dagvelt. Disgruntled, Christopher passed on his way. 

He returned to the Flaming Sun shortly after sundown. 
Roxhythe had shaken off some of his sleepiness and was 
studying a map of Holland. He had changed his clothes 
and his nails had been carefully polished. He looked up 
as Christopher entered, and smiled. 

“Well, what of the town?” 

Christopher did not tell him of his encounter with 
Mynheer Dagvelt. 

John put his head in at the door with the news that 
Mynheer de Staal was below. Roxhythe nodded. 

“At once, John.” 

Christopher rose to depart. 

“Don’t go, Chris,” said my lord languidly. “You’ll like 
de Staal.” 

The door opened again in a minute, and a small, white- 
haired gentleman came hesitatingly into the room, hat in 
hand. 

Christopher was between him and Roxhythe, obscuring 
the latter. A pair of gentle blue eyes looked up into his 
face, and the finely cut lips smiled doubtfully. 

“Milor’—Roxhyt’e?” said de Staal. 

Roxhythe had pulled himself out of his chair, and now 
he came forward, hands outstretched. 

“De Staal!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


45 


“Milor’!” The sweet voice trembled. Before Roxhythe 
could prevent him, de Staal had carried both hands to his 
lips. “Milor’! Ah, milor’ . . .! To see you again 
after all these years!” He spoke in Dutch. 

“And you, de Staal! You are well?” Roxhythe’s 
English accent had disappeared. 

“I grow old,” answered the other. “Yes, I am well. The 
sight of you would refresh a dying man,* milor’.” 

Roxhythe led him to a chair. 

“You missed us, de Staal? Well, we’ve missed you, and 
all the old friends. Sometimes we pine for the sight of the 
old haunts—my little master and I.” 

“Ah, the Prince! He is well? He is happy in his 
England?” 

“Yes, he’s happy, de Staal.” 

“And you?” 

“Oh, I! But of course!” 

De Staal regarded him wistfully. 

“We heard how great you are in England, milor’; how 
powerful; what a courtier. Eh, eh! And it likes you, that 
life?” 

“It likes me very well, de Staal. I am as my master— 
I’ve no mind to set out on my travels again.” 

De Staal nodded slowly. His eyes never left Roxhythe’s 
face. 

“You find me changed?” asked my lord. 

“A little,”’ admitted de Staal. “There are lines where 
there were not, and your eyes have grown not so bright. ’ 

“That is age,” smiled Roxhythe. 

“It is the soft living,” replied de Staal. “I do not see the 
soldier, milor’.” 

My lord gave a strange little sigh. 

“He hath gone long since, my friend.” He sighed again. 

“You almost make me wish I was a wanderer once more.’ 
His smile was rather crooked. “You were surprised to 
get my letter?” 

“I could not believe mine eyes! The sight of ‘Roxhyt’e’ 
across the page stunned me. I came as soon as I could 
leave the house. You want my help?” 


46 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You guessed that?*’ 

“You would not else have sent for me, milor’.” 

Christopher cleared his throat. De Staal was a pathetic 
figure, and these calm words, spoken entirely without 
bitterness, made his eyelids smart suddenly. 

Roxhythe did not expostulate. 

“I am here on the King’s business, de Staal; business of 
a very private nature, and I am spied upon.” 

“You have been spied upon before,” smiled de Staal. 
They both laughed. 

“Ay, but this is more serious.” 

“Your life is in danger?” 

“Not a whit. But I must shake off the importunate 
gentleman. He is downstairs now, thinking me in bed with 
a low fever. I must ride to the Hague no later than to¬ 
morrow night and I do not desire the company of my 
friend.” 

“Ah! You kill him?” 

Roxhythe bit his lip. 

“There are three of them or I might be tempted. No, I 
leave him here. De Staal, I want you to give it out down¬ 
stairs that I am indeed ill—remember you have never seen 
me before—and that I must not be disturbed. Only Chris 
here, and my servant are to be allowed into my room, and 
you will come every day until I return from the Hague. 
That I hope to do in three or four days’ time. Will you 
do it?” 

“Milor’!” De Staal looked his reproach. “You ask me 
will I do it?” 

“You will. Another thing. I want you to procure me a 
horse, and to stall it for me until I come to fetch it. You’ll 
do that too?” 

“Assuredly. So you escape by night, heinV ’ 

“By way of the window. With your permission I’ll 
spend the rest of the night with you.” 

De Staal nodded. 

“I wish I were coming!” said Christopher suddenly. 

Roxhythe shook his head. 

“You would greatly complicate matters, my dear Chris.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


47 


De Staal looked enquiringly from one to the other. 
Roxhythe translated. 

“Aha! De adventure appeal to you, hein ?” 

“I should like to be there, to help Lord Roxhythe.” 

De Staal smiled approvingly. 

“You should take heem, milor’.” 

“Sacre nom! I think not.” 

“If only you would, sir!” Christopher looked appeal¬ 
ingly across at him. 

“De Staal, why must you put such ideas into the child’s 
head? No, Chris, it’s impossible.” 

“I am not a child.” 

“I crave your pardon. An I thought you one, I should 
not leave you to dupe Mynheer Spy during my absence.” 

Christopher was not appeased. 

“It is so little to do, sir!” 

“Chris, this is your first intrigue, and you expect to play 
the leading part! I have given you an all too difficult task 
as it is. Be assured that it is of great importance.” 

Christopher was silent. He escorted de Staal part of the 
way home, and again he broached the subject. 

“I would I might prevail upon my lord to take me with 
him, mynheer.” 

“He tell me you are of grit use to heem here,” replied 
the Dutchman. 

“Did he? I was afraid—I mean I do so little—I did not 
think I was of any use.” 

“But yes. He t’ink a grit deal of you, Mynheer Dart.” 

“Oh, is that true?” 

De Staal cast him a shrewd glance. 

“I should not say it eef eet were not. He tell me you are 
a ver’ prince of secretaries. Eet ees not often t’at milor’ 
t’ink a grit deal of a man .... You like heem, yes?” 

“Yes,” said Christopher. “But I do not understand 
him.” 

“No one understands heem,” answered de Staal placidly. 
“He ees what you English call—enigma. He ees a ver’ 
grit man. He throw a spell over you, hein? He make you 
do what he say?” 


48 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“He has great fascination,” admitted Christopher. 

“He make all men love heem eef he like. Only he not 
like ver’ often.” 

“No. He is sometimes very—very—” 

“He make you angry, hein?” 

“Yes, very.” 

“I know. Eet ees hees way. You must always do what 
he say, nevair—what you call eet?—dispute with heem.” 

“I am learning that!” grimaced Christopher. 

“T’at ees well. You will love heem ver’ mooch one day, 
only, I warn you, do not love heem too mooch, for he ees 
Roxhyt’e, and he not care for any one save heemself and 
hees Prince.” 

“Oh,” protested Christopher. 

“You not belief me. You t’ink heem onselfish, and ver’ 
good. Well, I warn you, eet ees not so. You remember t’at 
always and you not get hurt.” 

“But, mynheer, why should I get hurt?” 

“Eef you love a man ver’ deeply, t’at man he have de 
power to hurt you ver’ mooch. Me, I love heem ver’ gritly, 
but I know t’at he ees—Roxhyt’e. One day perhaps he hurt 
you ver’ mooch eef you not take care. So I warn you.” 

“Thank you very much, mynheer. But—oh, I feel sure 
that he is not like that!” 

“You will see. You not belief me now, but one day you 
will remember what I say to-night, hein?” 

“I hope not,” said Christopher gravely. 

On his way back to the Flaming Sun, he decided that de 
Staal was very charming, but very morbid. He gave not 
another thought to the evening’s conversation. 

De Staal visited my lord just before noon next day and 
Christopher saw him off the premises. For the benefit of 
all who might chance to be within earshot, de Staal gave 
him minute instructions concerning his “patient’s” treat¬ 
ment. Christopher hoped that the spy was near at hand. 

He could hardly possess his soul in patience during the 
rest of the day, and Roxhythe’s placidity was a source of 
wonderment to him. 

“One would think you were trying to get out of the way,” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


49 


my lord twitted him. “I only hope you will not run your 
head into a noose while I am gone, in your lust for 
adventure. Sit down and write to your brother.” 

“Why?” asked Christopher. 

“How argumentative you are! Tell him that you are 
coming to the Hague, with a certain Mr. Curtis, and have 
rooms at the Three Fishers. Tell him to visit you at six 
in the evening to-morrow. And tell him to ask for Curtis. 
Say naught that spies might not read with impunity.” 

Christopher looked up. 

“Oh, Roderick is not suspect, sir! He was engaged by 
De Witt himself.” 

“Yet he is the Prince, his man?” 

“He is now.” 

“Ah!” said Roxhythe. 

Christopher scratched away at the parchment. 

“Seal and address it,” ordered Roxhythe. 

Christopher obeyed, and handed it over to him. 

“There’s naught else, sir?” 

“I think not. You know all that you have to do. Keep 
Mynheer Spy content, and listen every night for the hoot of 
an owl, twice repeated.” 

“I do trust you will come to no harm, sir,” said Chris¬ 
topher anxiously. 

“You had best wish success to my mission,” was the 
gloomy response. “God knows, it needs it,” he added 
beneath his breath. 

At half-past ten he was ready to start. A voluminous 
cloak concealed his rich riding dress, and heavy top boots 
were on his feet. He thrust his gloves into his belt and 
donned his beaver. 

“So it is fare ye well, Chris! You took that package to 
de Staal?” 

“For your journey? Yes, sir.” 

Roxhythe opened the window softly, and looked out. It 
was very dark. 

“None too vigilant a spy,” he remarked. “Did you say 
he was playing at picquet?” 

“Five minutes ago he was. But you had best hasten.” 


50 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Oh, I am going, I am going! Lud, how anxious you are 
to be rid of me!” He held out his hand. “Goodbye, Chris; 
have a care to yourself, and remember that John may be 
trusted implicitly.” 

“Yes, sir. And, oh! pray, be careful.” 

“There’s naught to fear on my account.” He looked at 
Christopher for a moment. “I could not have accom¬ 
plished this without you, child.” 

The two hands gripped. Then Roxhythe swung one leg 
over the sill. 

“Quickly, Chris! The rope.” 

Two minutes later he was on the ground outside, and 
blackness had enveloped him. 

Christopher shut the window. He felt strangely forlorn 
and alone. 

Downstairs the spy continued to play picquet. 


CHAPTER VI 


Roderick Dart 

Roxhythe clattered through the streets of Delft until he 
came to a likely inn. There he drew rein, and there he 
lunched. In spite of his air of leisure he was well on his 
way again within the hour. By three in the afternoon he 
was at the Hague. 

The Three Fishers was an insignificant little inn on the 
outskirts of the town, not frequented by the quality, so Rox- 
hythe’s lack of baggage excited no suspicion. A slight sen¬ 
sation was caused by my lord’s request for a private 
parlour, but when he explained that he was to have a friend 
to dine with him whom he had not seen for years, it died 
down. The landlord was impressed when he learnt that 
the friend was of the Prince’s household and he readily 
undertook to have Christopher’s note delivered to Mr. 
Dart. 

Roxhythe was prepared to be very much on his guard 
with Roderick. Christopher had told him that he had been 
specially engaged by De Witt, but had since become a 
devoted adherent to William. Roxhythe was a cynic; he 
had lifted his eyebrows at that. Christopher had assured 
him that his brother might be trusted with Ashley’s 
packet; Roxhythe preferred to take no risks. He fully 
expected to find Mr. Dart an informer, feigning love for 
the young Prince as a means whereby to worm himself into 
whatever Orangist plot might be afoot. Roxhythe knew 
that William was very closely guarded; he also knew that 
De Witt chose his attendants carefully, and paid them 
well. He mistrusted Mr. Dart. 

Without Roderick’s aid he could not hope to gain en¬ 
trance to the palace, yet with his aid he might easily walk 
into some trap. He cast a loving glance at his pistols. 

Punctually at seven Mr. Dart was announced. My lord 

51 


•: h i 


52 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


rose at his entry, scanning him closely from beneath 
drooping lids; 

The door closed behind Roderick. He took a quick step 
into the room, looking all round. Then he stared at 
Roxhythe and his lips tightened. 

He was not very like his brother, except for his eyes 
which were grey, and as honest as Christopher’s. His 
mouth was thin and straight; his expression cold and watch¬ 
ful. He was dressed in a plain dark suit, wearing none 
of the furbelows that were in fashion. His whole appear¬ 
ance was severe. 

“Have I the honour of addressing—Mr. Curtis?” His 
voice was crisp. 

“The name will serve,” answered his lordship. “You 
are Mr. Dart, I think?” 

Roderick bowed. 

“I am come at my brother’s request, sir, but I do not see 
him.” 

Roxhythe ignored the hostility of his tone. 

“Christopher is at Rotterdam, Mr. Dart. ’Tis I who 
requested your company.” 

Roderick’s hand went to his belt. 

“Oh, no!” drawled my lord. “It is no shooting matter. 
Pray, will you not be seated? Dinner will be served in a 
moment.” 

Roderick swung his cloak from his shoulders and laid 
down his hat. 

“I thank you. I take it you have not desired my com¬ 
pany for the mere pleasure of seeing me. You are come on 
business, my Lord Roxhythe?” 

My lord opened his eyes admiringly. 

“I felicitate you,” he said. 

Roderick’s lip curled scornfully. 

“On my perspicacity, sir?” 

“On your power of recognition, Mr. Dart.” 

Roderick brushed that aside. 

“I have seen you many times, my lord.” The words bit. 

. . . “One would almost have inferred that I did not 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 53 

find favour in his august eyes,” afterwards remarked 
Roxhythe. 

“I am delighted,” sighed his lordship. “It greatly 
facilitates matters. Did you know that Christopher is my 
secretary?” 

“I did not. Since when is this, sir?” 

“Nigh on a month ago, I suppose. He is not very like you.” 

“Christopher is easily led—easily influenced!” said Rod¬ 
erick. 

Roxhythe conceived that the news of his brother’s latest 
venture did not meet with Roderick’s approval. 

“Just so,” he agreed. “A most useful boy.” 

At this moment the one maid that the inn boasted 
entered the room with a tray. When she had gone: 

“I must apologise for such poor hospitality,” said Rox¬ 
hythe. “It is the best the inn can afford.” 

Roderick seated himself at the table. He unbent 
slightly. 

Until the maid had finally withdrawn, leaving the men to 
their wine, they spoke of Christopher, the atrocious con¬ 
dition of the roads, or London gossip. It was then that 
Roxhythe inwardly dubbed Roderick a strait-laced Puritan. 
His disapproval of his host was very apparent, as was his 
disapproval of King Charles and his Court. Roxhythe was 
consumed with amusement. 

“I suppose you have moderately good entertainment at 
the Palace, Mr. Dart? he asked indolently. “But no doubt 
you miss the London life.” 

“No,” said Roderick. “Whitehall and its customs do 
not appeal to me. We of the Prince’s household live very 
quietly. We observe Whitehall and the Louvre from afar, 
and we do not desire to emulate them.” 

“Dear me!” said Roxhythe. “The Prince, then, has no 
taste for Court life?” 

“None whatsoever.” 

“Heaven forfend I find not a psalm-singing Quaker for 
Prince!” thought Roxhythe. Aloud he said: “Why, you 
surprise me, sir! I had thought so young a boy—&nd a 
Stuart—had had some taste for gaiety. Well, well!” 


54 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“His Highness, sir, looks with disgust on the ways of his 
uncle’s Court,” said Roderick deliberately. 

“Good luck to my mission!” thought Roxhythe. 

“He cannot see that King Charles has any man about him 
—with one or two exceptions—” he bowed, “—whom he 
can trust.” 

Roxhythe stared at him over the rim of his wine-glass. 

“Is His Highness then surrounded by men whom he can 
trust?” 

“The Prince his servants are faithful unto death,” was 
the proud answer. 

“His Highness is singularly fortunate,” said Roxhythe 
drily. 

Roderick pushed his chair back from the table. 

“Have we dilly-dallied long enough, sir? You have 
business with my master?” 

For a moment Roxhythe did not answer. Then he spoke 
slowly, his eyes on Dart’s. 

“Why, I do not know, sir. It depends.” 

“On what?” 

“On who your master is,” said my lord. 

Roderick looked puzzled. He flushed angrily as Rox- 
hythe’s meaning dawned on him, and half rose in his chair. 

“Do you insult me, my lord?” 

“By no means,” replied that imperturbable voice. “I 
was told that De Witt chose you to be one of the Prince his 
gentlemen. You speak of yourself as the Prince his faith¬ 
ful servant. What am I to understand?” 

“I am the Prince his servant.” 

“Yet you are not suspect by De Witt?” 

“No.” 

“You are lucky,” smiled his lordship. 

“There is no reason why I should give you an explana¬ 
tion, sir, but you may know that I was engaged not as an 
informer, but as one not likely to be won over by His High¬ 
ness. So Mynheer De Witt said.” 

“I take it Mynheer De Witt was wrong?” 

“Ay. You do not know His Highness or you might 
understand.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


55 


Roxhythe bowed. 

“I am looking forward to making the acquaintance of 
this Prince.” 

“You are a messenger?” Roderick surveyed him criti¬ 
cally. “An envoy from King Charles?” 

“I have that honour.” 

“You want me to bear a packet to His Highness?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe. “I want you to help me to gain 
access to the Prince.” 

Roderick gasped at his audacity. 

“Impossible!” 

“A word I do not know,” drawled his lordship. 

“The Prince will not receive you!” 

“I think he will.” 

“He will require proof of your identity!” 

“He shall have it,” Roxhythe drew a heavy signet ring 
from his finger, and laid it before his guest. 

Roderick stared down at the magic initials: C.R. There 
was no mistaking the ring. For a minute he sat thinking. 
Roxhythe polished his thumb-nail. 

“I may take this to His Highness?” asked Roderick, at 
last. 

“You may.” 

“And there is no packet to be conveyed?” 

“None that I cannot convey myself.” 

“I think His Highness will require you to send it!” 
flashed Roderick. 

“Alas! My orders are to deliver it into his hands 
myself.” 

“In that case there is no more to be said. You seem to 
think it is an easy matter to gain access to the Prince. 
Pray have you thought how you will do it?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe. “I never worry myself un¬ 
necessarily.” 

“Unnecessarily!” 

“You see, I leave it to you,” said my lord sweetly. 

“Indeed! Remember, I hold out no hope.” 

“I am dismayed,” said Roxhythe placidly. 


CHAPTER VII 
William of Orange 

Roxhythe had scarcely finished his breakfast next 
morning when once again Mr. Dart was announced. 

Roderick was colder than ever. He returned King 
Charles’ ring to my lord. 

“His Highness commands me to say that he will receive 
you this evening, sir.” 

“Yes?” said Roxhythe. He drew forward a chair. “Can 
I offer you breakfast?” 

“Thank you, I breakfasted two hours since,” said Rod¬ 
erick. 

“Then you must be very hungry,” sympathised my lord. 
“Allow me to cut you some of this quite excellent bacon!” 

“Thank you, no.” 

Roxhythe sighed. 

“You must know, sir, that His Highness has been 
suffering from a slight indisposition these last few days 
which has compelled him to keep his room.” 

“I did not know.” Roxhythe was gravely concerned. 
“I am grieved to hear it.” 

“You misunderstand me, sir. The Prince had intended 
to leave his room to-day, but since you are to have audience 
with him he deems it more prudent to allow De Witt’s spies 
to think him still unwell. If you will come to the Palace 
to-night at eight and ask for me, you will be taken to my 
rooms which are at some distance from the Prince’s. You 
understand that I am not suspect, so my guests may come 
unchallenged. I have already spoken of you to the Gover¬ 
nor, Mynheer Van Ghent, and he is satisfied. You may 
trust me to smuggle you to the Prince his apartments.” 

“Very neat,” approved Roxhythe. “Be assured that I 
shall be punctual.” 

“If you please,” bowed Roderick, and took his leave. 

56 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


57 


“If the Prince his manners are like those of his servants, 
I am like to enjoy myself,” reflected Roxhythe. “Odd’s 
blood, but the young cockerel might be equerry to His 
Most Christian Majesty from the airs that he affects . . . 
A damned Puritan lot,” he added gloomily. 

In spite of this nonchalance, Roxhythe was curious to see 
Prince William. He had always heard that he was a youth 
of parts, and he thought now that he must be a youth of 
very forceful parts if all he had gathered from Roderick’s 
conversation were true. 

At eight o’clock he presented himself at the Palace. 
He was conducted through the great hall, up the stairs, and 
along a corridor to a small, sparsely-furnished room. 

Roderick rose and came forward, hands outstretched. 

“Ah, Curtis! So you have come!” In Dutch he 
addressed the servant. “Bring glasses, Hans.” 

The man withdrew. 

“I must ask you to await his return,” said Roderick 
stiffly. 

Roxhythe was shaken with silent laughter. Mr. Dart’s 
cordiality had dropped from him so suddenly. 

Roderick eyed him with cold hostility. 

“I think, too, that you had best retain your hat, sir, or 
stand with your back to the door.” 

My lord bent over the fire, warming his hands. 

“I trust your face has not been too closely observed,” 
continued Roderick. 

Roxhythe always complained that Mr. Dart thought him 
a fool. 

The servant re-appeared. He set glasses on the table, 
drew corks, and retired. 

“I do not wish to be disturbed, Hans,” warned Roderick. 

“No, Mynheer.” The door closed softly. 

Roxhythe picked up his hat and gloves. Roderick 
nodded. 

“If you will follow me, please.” 

The mocking light had gone out of my lord’s eyes. 
Roderick looked into the barrel of a small, gold-mounted 
pistol. 


58 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I deplore the seeming churlishness of my behaviour,” 
said Roxhythe, “but if there should be foul play, Mr. Dart, 
you will suffer for it.” 

Roderick was scornful. 

“You may put that plaything away, my lord. There 
will be no treachery.” 

“You relieve me,” said his lordship, still holding the 
pistol. “Lead on!” 

Roderick shrugged. He went to a door at the opposite 
end of the room. “This way, sir.” 

They passed into a narrow corridor, faintly lighted by an 
oil-lamp at one end. Roderick led the way along it, and up 
the flight of winding stairs that branched off from it. 
They came out on to a broad landing which was dark 
except for the light streaming from an open door. Some¬ 
one came out of that door, and turned to look at them. 

Roderick seemed not to see. He spoke crossly to Rox¬ 
hythe in Dutch. 

“You should not have left it until this late hour, Franz. 
If His Highness is asleep I cannot get the gloves for you, 
and I think it probable that he is asleep. He will be most 
displeased when he finds them still unmended . . . Good¬ 
evening, Van Druyslet!” 

A good-natured voice laughed: 

“Those gloves again, Dart!” 

“There has been enough bother about them already,” 
said Dart, walking on. 

“Ay. Good-night.” 

They went on down another passage, better-lighted, and 
not so narrow. A man was standing by a low couch out¬ 
side one of the doors that flanked the corridor. Roxhythe 
took a firm hold on his pistol. 

The man came forward, eyeing Roxhythe curiously. He 
addressed himself to Dart. 

“In the Prince his study, Roderick.” He spoke in English. 

“Thank you, Heenvliet. The Governor has visited His 
Highness?” 

Half an hour ago. His Highness feigned the migraine. 
It is quite safe, but in case of accidents 1 will cough out- 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


59 


side the door, and you, my lord,” he turned to Roxhythe, 
“will secrete yourself in the cupboard by the fireplace.” 

Roxhythe bowed. Roderick opened the door, and they 
entered a large, well-lighted room. It was empty, and, 
like the rest of the Palace, richly, but severely furnished. 

Roderick held out his hand. 

“That pistol, if you please, my lord.” 

Roxhythe handed it over, smiling. 

“Did you think I meant to assassinate the Prince?” 

“I take no risks, sir,” said Roderick quietly. He went 
to where a heavy curtain hung, and pulled it back. “His 
Highness will be with you almost at once.” He dis¬ 
appeared. 

My lord was again shaken with laughter. 

“Oddsfish! ’tis as good as Etheridge his best!” he told 
himself. “The little princeling! . . . But he would 
appear to have good servants,” he added, thinking of the 
man on the passage. 

The Palace was very silent. A cinder falling on to the 
hearth caused his lordship to start as at an explosion. 
The candles were burning steadily; not even the wind 
moaned. 

“A damned gloomy place,” said Roxhythe. He drew a 
bulky package from his breast, and laid it on the carven 
table. 

There was not a sound anywhere; no movement, no sign 
of life; everything was eerily silent. Roxhythe shivered. 

“William of Orange has my sympathy,” he murmured. 

The heavy curtains swung noiselessly back. A slight 
youth, with great eyes burning in an unnaturally pale face, 
came quickly into the room. Dart followed him, and the 
curtain fell back into place. 

The boy was dressed as plainly as Dart. Light curls fell 
to his shoulders and framed his hawk-face. His eyes were 
hazel, cold and keen, the nose aquiline; the mouth thin. 
He gave Roxhythe the impression of one much repressed, 
and old beyond his eighteen years. 

My lord swept a low, court bow. 

“Your Highness!” 


60 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


William spoke haltingly. His voice, even then, had a 
harsh timbre. 

“Mi—lor’—Roxhyt’e ? ” 

My lord bowed again. 

“I have to thank Your Highness for receiving me at this 
hour. I am very sensible of the honour you do me. 

William inclined his head gravely. He spoke over his 
shoulder to Dart. 

“Rodrigue, you may leave me.” 

Roderick frowned quickly. 

“Will Your Highness not permit me to remain?” 

“It is not necessary. Heenvliet will show Milor’ 
Roxhyt’e hack to your room. I wish you to go.” 

“Very well, Sir.” Roderick went out. 

William brought his eyes back to Roxhythe. He con¬ 
tinued to speak Dutch. 

“Well, milor’? You bring me a message from my 
uncle?” 

“Yes, Highness. I have a proposition to lay before you 
on behalf of His Majesty,” said Roxhythe, also in Dutch. 

“It is here?” William stepped to the table where lay 
Ashley’s packet. His hand closed over it. 

“That contains the proposition, Sir, as writ by Lord 
Ashley.” 

The Prince looked up quickly. 

“So? Ashley.” He sat down at the table, and broke 
open the seals. “Be seated, milor’.” He spread the close- 
written sheets out before him, and resting his head in his 
hand, started to read. 

Nothing broke the stillness save the crackling of the 
parchment, and occasionally a cough from the Prince. 

While he read, Roxhythe studied the boy’s face, waiting 
for him to betray his feelings by some change of expres¬ 
sion. 

William read on steadily. Not an eyelid flickered. 

Roxhythe marvelled more and more at this extraordinary 
youth. He realised that here was a personality as strong 
as, or even stronger than his own master’s, and at the same 
time, totally dissimilar. William’s manner was almost 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


61 


repellent; he employed no wiles to attract; he rarely 
smiled. To Roxhythe he had been brusque to the point of 
rudeness, yet his lordship was conscious of an overwhelm¬ 
ing magnetism. He could understand now how it was that 
William was so well served. Instinctively he felt that 
William had the strength of character that his uncle lacked. 
He felt, too, that William could inspire unlimited con¬ 
fidence, and he knew, without knowing why, that even he, 
cynic that he was, would trust him implicitly. 

William put the sheets together, and rested his hand 
lightly on them. For some time he did not speak, but sat 
looking straight before him, eye-brows drawn close across 
his forehead. His tapering fingers drummed on the folded 
parchment; a ruby ring caught the light of the candles, and 
winked sagely. It was the only ornament he wore. 

“So this is Ashley’s proposition . . .’’he said slowly. 
“What has my uncle to say?” 

“His Majesty but endorses what you have read, High¬ 
ness,” answered Roxhythe. 

William looked at him thoughtfully. 

“I do not see what King Charles stands to gain by this,” 
he flicked the parchment. 

Roxhythe was taken aback. He was not prepared for 
such ruthless perspicacity. 

“Your Highness has a knowledge of men,” he said. 

“Is it likely that King Charles would offer this-” 

again he flicked the parchment—“and demand naught in 
exchange?” 

“No, Highness, it is not likely. Yet King Charles stands 
to get the worst of the bargain.” 

For the first time William smiled. 

“I cannot credit it, milor’.” 

“Nevertheless, it is so, Sir. Have I your leave to speak?” 

William nodded. His eyes never left my lord’s face. 

“The matter is this, Highness: King Charles is desirous 
of seeing his nephew in his rightful place, and not a State 
prisoner. He hath no love for De Witt, and he thinks that 
the people of Holland have none either. He will aid you 
to overthrow their High Mightinesses, and he will make 



62 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


you Stadtholder—even Kina;, if the thing were possible. 
It should not be difficult. You know, Sir, that the people 
grow tired of the Pensionary, and murmur your name again. 
At Rotterdam, at Middleburgh, at Amsterdam, and a score 
of other towns I could mention, feeling is very strong in 
your favour. King Louis is an all too powerful enemy and 
the Provinces require a leader. It is thought that you, Sir, 
inherit your great-grandfather’s genius. Were you to 
break free from De Witt and raise your banner at the right 
moment, crowds would flock to it. The nobles are on your 
side and the middle-classes will follow when they realize 
that in you lies salvation. King Charles will help you to 
drive out the French, and the combination will surely prove 
too strong for Louis.” 

“Yes,” interrupted the Prince. “And the price?” 

“You have read it, Sir.” 

William moved impatiently. 

“I have read many meaningless words and vague terms, 
milor’.” 

“Briefly, Highness, it is this: In return for setting you in 
your rightful place, His Majesty requires the State to pay 
him a certain sum yearly, to be afterwards decided on. 
There would be some compact, of course.” 

“I think that is not all,” said William. “What of that 
compact of which you spoke?” 

“An alliance between the two countries, similar to the 
existing bond.” Roxhythe looked up. “That should 
benefit you, Sir.” 

“It should also benefit King Charles,” said William 
drily. “And your English Parliament? They would like 
this?” 

“Your Highness has read Lord Ashley’s letter.” 

“Lord Ashley stands by the King . . . Strange! Or 
does Lord Ashley work in the dark? He says nothing of 
this tribute to be paid to King Charles.” 

Roxhythe s brain worked swiftly. It was very evident 
that William was no fool. He saw through the offer and he 
would see through all subterfuges, however glib. The only 
course was to be frank. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


63 


“Highness, King Charles is in need of money. You know 
enough of the relations between King and Commons in 
England to see that he must look abroad for it. Two ways 
he may look: to France, or to you. France will ask too 
much in return; she would want to hold England ’neath 
her thumb-” 

“Much as King Charles wants to hold me,” nodded the 
Prince. 

“By no means, Sir. His Majesty wants to help you to the 
Stadtholdership. He will benefit by the compact; you will 
benefit still more, and the Commons will think they 
benefit.” 

“His Majesty’s scruples are very nice,” said William. 
“He will not make England a catspaw of France, but he 
would like to make the Provinces a catspaw of England. 
A subtle distinction, milor’.” 

“Your Highness hardly states the case,” said Roxhythe 
gently. “There is no question of catspaw.” 

“No? Then I have greatly misunderstood you, sir!” 

“Your Highness has said so.” 

William looked down at the paper beneath his tightly- 
clenched hand. All at once he grew rigid and his eyes 
flashed. He began to speak, quickly, and with suppressed 
feeling. 

“King Charles his offer is no less than an insult! He 
seeks to bribe me to sell my country to him—to barter mine 
honour! He has made a great mistake, sir! He thinks to 
frighten me, Nassau! with his evasive talk of Louis. Oh, 
ay! I have seen very clearly what he means! He is very 
sure that I may be bribed, and bought, and tricked! He 
thinks to dupe me with these vague promises”—he struck 
the parchment—“But I know him! These armies he will 
put at my disposal—this King Louis whom he will drive 
from my country! Does he think me such a fool that I do 
not know he will never offend the French King? Bah! 
’Tis I who am to fight! I who must provide the money 
wherewith to equip mine army! I who must lead them! 
I who must do all, while he stands by, encouraging me, 
and tricking me with his subtleties, and his empty 



64 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


promises! The compact? I can imagine it very easily, 
inilor’! A string of evasions with but one clear clause 
amongst them! And that that I should pay him tribute 
yearly! He thinks me a child not to be reckoned with. 
He does not know Nassau! You spoke of my great-grand¬ 
father’s spirit which my good uncle thinks I inherit. Tell 
him that he spoke sooth, and that William of Nassau treats 
his offer thus, and thus!” William tore the parchment 
sheets across and across. 

“Highness, you misjudge His Majesty very grievously 

“Do I so? Bah! He is afraid! He fears that Louis 
may be making me this same offer, and he cannot afford 
to have France and the Provinces united. His good inten¬ 
tions!” He laughed shortly, furiously. “He does not 
like to see me a prisoner! Yet he has seen me thus all 
these years, and raised but the feeblest finger in protest. 
He is slow to decide, your King! Well, there is mine 
answer!” He pointed to the scattered pieces of paper on 
the floor. “And further tell him that William of Orange 
will not stoop to intrigue behind the back of the State, 
nor will he sell his people for his own advancement!” 
He paused and pressed his handkerchief to his mouth. A 
violent fit of coughing tore and racked his slender body. 

Roxhythe waited for him to cease. When the Prince 
leaned back in his chair, quiet now, and with exhaustion 
written about his eyes, he answered him. 

“Your Highness would do well to consider. Have you 
bethought yourself that it is not wise to offend the King 
of England?” 

The pale lips parted. 

“While I remain a prisoner King Charles cannot harm 
me. When I am Stadtholder he will not dare. There 
is Louis.” 

“Your Highness is very sanguine. If you will not 
sell your country, as you call it, by whose help do you 
hope to overthrow the Oligarchy?” 

“Have I said that I hoped to overthrow them? I desire 
to hold my rightful office, but I will raise no hand against 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 6S 

a Governme.it that I fully acknowledge. It will be by 
the people’s will alone that I become Stadtholder.” 

“And if the people will it not?” 

William’s eyes flashed again. 

“Did you not aesure me that they were ripe for my 
standard?” 

“For your standard, Sir, yes. But if you raise it not 
they cannot stand by it. They will not rise for Prince 
William alone. Prince William with a force to back him, 
yes. It is a very different matter.” 

“I do not fear.” The Prince spoke calmly now. 

“Your Highness is young. You do not know the temper 
of a mob.” 

“Then I shall learn, milor’.” 

“By bitter experience.” 

“Perhaps even that.” 

There fell a long silence. It was useless to attempt 
further argument. The Prince meant what he said, and 
he knew what he was saying. Yet my lord tried to 
reason with him once more. 

“Highness, I counsel you most sincerely not to reject 
my master’s offer thus lightly. You must realize what 
an impossible task it is that you set yourself. You will 
have your country divided against itself, some standing 
for you, others for the Pensionary. Also you will have a 
French army marching upon you; perhaps, too, an 
English army. You would do well to consider.” 

“I have considered. What King Charles asks is im¬ 
possible. I am not a Stuart—I cannot so unconcernedly 
sell my country. Milor’ Roxhythe, I beg you will not 
waste your breath seeking to persuade me. Do you think 
I have not had just such an offer before? I have con¬ 
sidered well, and there lies my answer.” 

Roxhythe rose. 

“Then there is no more to be said, Highness. I trust 
you will not regret this day’s work. Again I implore 
you to consider well. I shall return to the Hague in a 
few days’ time, staying at the Poisson d’Or. A message 
will bring me very swiftly. Think it over carefully, High- 


66 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

V f 

ness, and remember that together Engle d and the 
Provinces would be very powerful.” He picked up his 
hat. “I have to thank you for this audience, Sir. I fear 
it has tired you.” 

“No, milor’.” William pressed his handkerchief to his 
lips again. “I am sorry that you should have been put 
to this unnecessary trouble. YoUr King has sent you on 
a fool’s errand. My answer is iinal.” 

“Nevertheless, Highness, I shall be at the Poisson d’Or 
for ten days.” 

William shook his head. He struck the hand-bell at 
his side. 

Heenvliet appeared. 

“Conduct milor’ to Mynheer Dart,” ordered William. 
“Milor’ ”—he moved his head wearily—“I will not detain 
you longer. I thank you for your patience.” 

Roxhythe bowed as he would have bowed to the King, 
his master. 

“I do not despair, Highness. Permit me to compliment 
you on your integrity.” 

So he left William, Prince of Orange, seated in the 
high-backed chair, with the scattered scraps of parchment 
at his feet, a solitary figure, bodily frail, but with the 
light of indomitable courage shining in his dark eyes, 
and a steadfast purpose before him. 

He knew that he had failed; he knew that the little 
princeling whom he had pitied—whom he still pitied— 
was one of the world’s great men; a prince who, one day, 
would have to be reckoned with; a prince who was not 
to be bought; a prince who was also an honest man. 


) 


CHAPTER VIII 


The Amiable Mr. Milward Perplexed 

To Christopher, waiting by the window, came the hoot 
of an owl, twice repeated. In an instant he was on his 
feet, and had leant out of the casement. Roxhythe’s voice 
reached him. 

“That rope, Chris! Tis plaguily damp out here.” 

Christopher vanished. When he reappeared it was 
with the rope, one end of which he secured to the stout 
hook in the wall. The other end he cautiously let down. 

Roxhythe swung gracefully up. He climbed over the 
sill into the room, and threw off his hat and cloak. 
Christopher drew in the rope, and watched my lord go 
to the fire. He saw how grim were the lines about his 
mouth. 

“You’d no trouble, sir? No mishaps?” 

“None,” said Roxhythe curtly. “And you?” 

“Everything has gone very well, though I fear the spies 
grow anxious. They removed to the inn across the road 
the day after you left me.” He poured out a glass of 
wine and handed it to mv lord. 

J 

“You saw the Prince, sir?” 

Roxhythe sank into the nearest chair. He gave vent 
to a prodigious yawn. 

“Yes, I saw him.” He volunteered no further infor¬ 
mation, and Christopher did not like to question him. 
Instead he told him all that had passed during the last 
few days. 

“. . .So Mynheer de Staal gave it out to-day that 
you were better, and he thought it possible that you might 
he up to-morrow.” 

“Very good,” said Roxhythe. “Your suggestion?” 

“Yes,” admitted Christopher. “I thought you could not 
well be later than to-morrow, and it seemed a pity to waste 
time.” 


67 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You are invaluable,” sighed my lord. 

Presently Christopher felt that he could no longer curb 
his curiosity. 

“Was your mission successful, sir?” he ventured. 

“It failed,” answered Roxhythe. “A novel experience. 
I shall go to bed.” 

He appeared downstairs next morning for a short space 
and spent the rest of the day, sleeping in his chair. He 
complained that he was bored. 

After three days he announced that he was tired of 
Rotterdam and should go to the Hague. 

Christopher was surprised. 

“I had imagined that we were to return to London,” 
he said. 

“Had you? But then you are so impetuous. You 
forget our amiable friend.” 

“Milward? Does he matter?” 

“He would think so,” said my lord, and would vouch¬ 
safe no more. 

They said farewell to de Staal that afternoon. The old 
man was distressed. Christopher left him alone with 
Roxhythe. 

En route for the Hague he spoke of him to my lord. 

“Mynheer de Staal hath a great regard for you, sir.” 

“Yes,” replied Roxhythe, unmoved. 

They found Mr. Milward at the Poisson d’Or. He 
seemed relieved to see them. Roxhythe invited him to 
dinner and Christopher went forth to meet his brother. 

He and Roderick dined at a little inn not far from 
the Palace. They had not met for two years, and there 
was much to be said on both sides. Not until dinner 
was over did Roderick speak of Roxhythe. Then he 
went straight to the point 

“Christopher, what induced you to enter the service of 
that man?” 

“That man?” interrogated Christopher with uplifted 
brows. 

“Lord Roxhythe.” 

“He was in need of a secretary; I, of work.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


69 


“There are a score of better men in need of secretaries!” 

“Indeed?” 

“Don’t speak like that, child! You should have con¬ 
sulted me. I might have known you would act foolishly 
when my father died.” 

“I am perfectly well able to care for myself! And I 
resent—your tone!” 

Roderick ignored this. 

“Were my father alive he would be more than dis¬ 
pleased to see you in such company.” 

“Roderick, what do you mean? What have you against 
my lord?” 

“What every sane man has against him. He is a 
libertine—a rake-helly fellow, with no morals, and less 
honour.” 

“How dare you say that? He is no more rake-hell than 
the others at Whitehall! And as to honour!—You speak 
of what you do not know!” 

“Do I so? Even an what you say is true, which it is 
not—that he is no more rake-hell than the rest of that 
licentious circle, it is no excuse for entering his service. 
I would not have my brother in the company of one of 
them.” 

Christopher essayed a sneer. 

“Why, are you turned Puritan?” 

“I am no more Puritan than ever I was, as you very well 
know. Had I'been in England a month ago I would have 
prevented you taking this disastrous step.” 

“And I tell you that you would not! My Lord Roxhythe 
is a very honourable, brave gentleman, and I am proud 
to be in his service!” 

“A patriotic gentleman also, I suppose?” 

“Yes!” 

“You are infatuated.” 

“Then so are you! What induced you to enter the 
Prince of Orange his service? I would not work for a 
foreigner!” 

Roderick gripped his wrist, shaking him. 

“You young fool, be silent!” 


70 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Why?” Christopher stared. 

“Do you think no Dutchman understands English that 
you shout what might be mine undoing in an inn parlour? 

“Your pardon!” . . . Christopher rolled the words out 
caressingly. “I had forgot you played a double part. 
Oddslife, Roderick! I would not serve two men as you 
do. To my mind it is no gentlemanly thing to do.” 

Roderick coloured angrily. 

“You do not understand. I serve the Prince and no 
other!” 

“Who is imprudent now?” jeered Christopher. “I 
thought you served De Witt once? Your devotion to the 
Orange smacks somewhat of double-dealing.” 

“I am not going to quarrel with you, Christopher.” 

“Then do not seek to malign my master to me! I know 
him as you do not, and I tell you he is the soul of 
honour!” 

“You fool,” said Dart quietly. “Do you believe that? 
I warn you that one day you will be disillusioned. 
Roxhythe works for himself alone. He would dupe you 
did the need arise, or crush you beneath his heel. You 
think him a man of scruples, but I tell you—and I know— 
that he is without heart and without honour. Chris, you 
are very young, be advised by me and quit his service. He 
only wants you for a tool.” 

“’Tis you who are the fool! My Lord wants me for 
a secretary! There is no question of duping, or tools.” 

“Do you deny then that you are with him solely for the 
purpose of bringing King Charles his message to the 
Prince?” 

Christopher was silent. 

“Roxhythe hath it in mind to use you in his machina¬ 
tions for his master. And if you are over-nice in your 
scruples, he’ll trick you. Be warned, Chris, I implore 
you!” 

“You are undoubtedly mad,” said Christopher with con¬ 
viction. “If I were required to work for His Majesty 
there would be no need of trickery. I would die for His 
Majesty and the Country.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


71 


“You cannot die twice!” snapped Roderick. 

“The King and his Country are one, as you should know.” 

“Are they?” said Roderick heavily. “Not your King 
and his Country.” 

“You are disloyal! My King? He is also yours!” 

“Alas, yes!” 

Christopher betrayed anxiety. 

“Roderick, consorting with these stiff-necked Dutchmen 
has affected your brain. I do not pretend to understand 
this strange talk of yours. You had best quit Holland and 
come home!” 

“My dear brother, living as I do, I have had oppor¬ 
tunities of studying politics, and of viewing politicians 
and Princes that you have not. I have seen the intrigues 
within intrigues that are always afoot—the treachery, the 
lying! More I cannot say, but rest assured that I speak 
the truth. I have seen what manner of men live in Eng¬ 
land and in France, and I know that amongst them all 
there is not one who is honest. There is only one man 
to be trusted. Him, I serve.” 

“You have become bigoted, Dick, and hard. What you 
say is utterly false. Is it possible that you think your 
master the one honest man? Why, even I, whom you so 
freely call fool, am not so mad!” 

Roderick sighed. 

“I see you will go your own wilful way, Chris. You 
have fallen a victim to Roxhythe’s notorious charm, and 
I suppose you will follow him headlong to destruction.” 

Christopher leaned his head in his hands and gave way 
to helpless laughter. When he had recovered, Roderick 
started to talk on some other topic. They spoke no more 
of Roxhythe that evening. 

My lord was in his dressing-gown when Christopher 
came back to the inn. He gave his secretary one shrewd, 
calculating glance. 

“You look heated, Chris. You have been quarrelling 
with your brother.” 

“Nearly,” said Christopher. “I fear for his sanity. He 
speaks so wildly, and so foolishly.” 


I 


72 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“In fact he disapproves of my Lord Roxhythe most 
sincerely,” nodded his lordship. “Does he seek to remove 
you from my evil influence?” 

“Oh, yes, sir! I think he seeks to put me in a glass 
case, for he avows that there is but one honest man alive 
to-day, and he will not have me serve under any other!” 

“Lud! Does he expect you to enroll yourself under 
the Prince’s banner? Don’t do it, Chris! Tis a gloomy 
youth.” 

“Not I, sir!” said Christopher flippantly. “I had sooner 
tread the path to destruction in your company.” 

“So ho!” said Roxhythe to his reflection in the mirror. 
He was seated before his dressing-table. “Is that the way 
the wind blows? Be warned, Chris! I am an unscrupulous 
fellow.” 

“I know,” said Christopher, smiling. “He told me so.” 

“Well, it’s true enough.” 

“Is it, sir?” Christopher’s voice vibrated with indig¬ 
nation. “Do you seek to warn me ’gainst yourself?” 

“It would appear so,” said Roxhythe. 

Three days later my lord entered their private parlour, 
and sat down at the table. He dipped a quill in the ink, 
and drew a sheet of parchment towards him. 

“Milward sticks like a leech. I feel it behooves me to 
write to my little master.” He bent over the parchment. 

Christopher assented vaguely. 

The quill scratched tranquilly along. Presently 
Roxhythe sat back, and (Justed the sheet. He folded, 
addressed, and sealed it. 

“That will go by special courier. It should interest 
Mynheer Spy.” 

“If it goes by courier, how should Milward see it,” asked 
Christopher. 

“There are ways,” placidly replied his lordship. 

“But he would scarce dare to steal a letter from you 
to His Majesty, sir!” 

agreed Roxhythe. “He would very easily dare 
to borrow it for some few minutes, however.” 

“To read the contents? He hopes to learn the result 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


73 


°f your mission—or—or whether you have been on a 
mission at all—so that Louis might make an outcry?” 
“Something like that, no doubt.” 

“I see,” said Christopher profoundly. “Yet how dare 
he break the seal?” 

“You do not realize that I have been so considerate 
as to place the seal on the wafer,” said Roxhythe, pained. 
“He will not break it.” 

“Were you born in intrigue, sir?” asked Christopher. 

“I believe I must have been,” said his lordship. 

Thus it came to pass that when the not incorruptible 
courier slept off his doctored potations at Delft, his late 
host, accredited agent to his Most Christian Majesty, re¬ 
moved a certain document from his wallet, and in the 
deserted coffee-room, carefully slit open the wafer that 
sealed it. He was well versed in cyphers but he found a 
cypher unnecessary. The letter was short, and was written 
in English. 

“Yr. Majesty,— Has Yr. Majesty punished His Ser¬ 
vant enough, or must Roxhythe Remain a Wanderer? 
If he might Crave Yr. Pardon againe, he Does so, Still 
more Humbly and Contritely than Before. Yet more 
earnestly Does he Implore Yr. Majesty to Allow him 
to Return, when he will Endeavoure To Showe Yr. 
Majesty How Great is his Remorse for that Unpardon¬ 
able Offence which he Committed. 

“He is Yr. Majesty’s most Devoted, Humble Servant, 
Roxhythe.” 

His Most Christian Majesty’s accredited agent was 
annoyed and perplexed. Deftly he re-stuck the wafer, and 
restored the packet to the courier’s wallet. Then he rode 
back to the Hague. 

The amiable Mr. Milward when apprised of the con¬ 
tents of the letter wrinkled his brow uncertainly. 

“It seems we are come on a fruitless errand, Dupont. 
Roxhythe has not the wit to write such a plausible blind. 
King Charles is not a fool, and only a fool sends a fool 
to work his intrigues.” 


74 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You are assured that milor’ is a fool, then?” 

“He is a brainless court-darling. Yet ... It was 
strange that he should fall into such sudden disgrace. I 
had thought him too perfect a courtier to offend as he 
did. I confess I am at a loss. He has not had word 
with the Prince, nor any of his servants, unless it be 
Mr. Dart who is De Witt’s man. I have dogged his steps, 
and he suspects naught!” He laughed contemptuously. 
“I believe we are on a fool’s errand!” 

“Maybe, nisieu. But I do not think that milor’ is 
quite the brainless nincompoop he pretends to be. I would 
I had been at Rotterdam in place of Grant. I am uneasy.” 

“He is either a fool or a marvellously astute man. 
In any case, what more can be done?” 

“Naught,” said Dupont sadly. “But I mistrust him.” 

In due time came a letter for Roxhythe. It was brought 
to him as he sat at dinner with Christopher and 

Mr. Milward. 

“From my master,” he said. “You will excuse me?” 

He tore open the seals and read. Then he gave a relieved 

laugh, and laid the sheet down in such a way that 

Mr. Milward might easily read what was written there. 

“His Majesty is pleased to forgive me! So it’s boot 
and saddle for us, Chris, as soon as may be.” 

King Charles’ letter ran: 

My Little Davy, —My Majesty must needs Forgive 

you, for I cannot Live Without You. I am Surrounded 

by Dolts and Sycophants; I must have My Roxhythe. 

Return at once.— Charles R. 

Mr. Milward tried to drown his fears. 

Before they left the Hague, Roderick had speech with 
Roxhythe again. 

“His Highness desires me to say, sir, that his answer is 
final.” 

“That is his last word?” 

Roderick bowed. 

“I am sorry,” said Roxhythe. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


75 


The brothers parted on quite cordial terms. Roderick, 
seeing that it was useless, did not again press Christopher 
to leave my lord’s service. 

Mr. Milward bade the travellers a touching farewell. 
Roxhythe addressed him mournfully. 

“I shall miss your pleasant companionship, Mr. Milward. 
We have seen much of each other of late.” 

Mr. Milward watched the little cavalcade depart. He 
became aware of Dupont at his elbow. 

“He laughs at us,” said the Frenchman gloomily. “He 
slips through our fingers like water. Me, I have had deal¬ 
ings with him before. I suspected, but evidence? Pouf!” 

“Nonsense!” said Milward uneasily. “I have scarce 
left his side since he has been at the Hague!” 

“It would not worry him. I tell you, he is a devil. You 
might be bound to him with chains, and he would give 
you the slip. He is not a man. He is a devil.” He 
walked away, depressed. 

Four days later, on board ship, Roxhythe broached a 
subject that had been weighing heavily on Christopher’s 
mind. He laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder, and 
spoke with some affection. 

“Well, Chris, so the journey is at an end. In a few 
hours’ time we shall be in London. What then?” 

Christopher looked at him. 

“You will be no longer in need of a secretary, sir?” 

“I? Oh, I must have a secretary, of course.” 

Christopher became still more crestfallen. 

“I—you—that is, you wish me to leave you now, sir?” 

“No. But I think you would be wise to be counselled by 
that excellent brother of yours.” 

“Oh, sir, never give him a thought!” cried Christopher. 
“If I might stay with you, I will serve you—unquestion¬ 
ing^.” 

“Very well,” said Roxhythe. “You shall stay.” 


CHAPTER IX 


The King of England 

Gorgeous in a pale-blue velvet suit with crimson facings 
and ribands, and much rich lace, the Most Noble the 
Marquis of Roxhythe entered the doors of Whitehall. He 
carried his gloves and his cane in one hand and in the 
other he held his comfit box. The page at the door cast 
one glance at the handsome face beneath the wide brimmed 
hat with its drooping feather, and straightened in every line 
of his body. 

Roxhythe’s slumbrous eyes travelled over him. 

“His Majesty?” he said. 

The page bowed. 

“I think His Majesty is in his closet, sir. Shall I send 
Master Hutchins to announce you?” 

“Do,” said Roxhythe. 

An elegant gentleman crossed the hall towards him. 

“I protest ’tis a joy to see you again, Roxhythe,” he 
simpered. “You had a fair crossing?” 

“I believe I did,” assented my lord. “How doth her 
ladyship?” 

“Very well, very well,” said the elegant gentleman. “His 
Majesty is all a-fret to see you. He will be delighted. 
He had not expected you so soon.” 

On his way up the Grand Staircase, Roxhythe met some 
half a dozen gentlemen, who were all duly enthusiastic 
over his return. He reflected that his was something of 
a triumphal entry. 

As he neared the King’s closet he spoke to the page 
beside him. 

“Is His Majesty disengaged?” 

“I think Lord Lauderdale is with him, my lord.” 

“In that case you may announce me,” said Roxhythe. 

76 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


77 


“Yes, my lord. His Majesty gave orders that you were 
to be taken to him at once.” He knocked on the door of 
the closet. 

Charles’ voice bade him enter. It held a peevish note. 

The page opened wide the door. 

“The Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe!” 

Hat in hand Roxhythe walked into the room. 

Charles was seated at the table, opposite Lord Lauder¬ 
dale, but at the favourite’s entrance, he pushed back his 
chair and rose quickly to his feet. 

“David! Already!” He embraced Roxhythe before my 
lord had time to make his bow. He held him by the 
shoulders, scanning his face. 

“Zoons, Davy! how I have waited for this moment!” 

“Not so impatiently as have I, Sir.” Roxhythe smiled 
back into his eyes. 

My Lord Lauderdale rose, a red spot on either cheek. 

“I take it Your Majesty has no further use for me,” 
he grated. 

“None whatsoever, my lord,” answered Charles gaily. 
“Some other time ...” 

Lauderdale jerked a bow to him, and another to Rox¬ 
hythe. He went angrily out of the room. 

“A good riddance to his dourness,” said Charles. “Davy, 
Davy, I have missed you so sorely I swear I’ll never send 
you from me again!” 

“I am glad you have missed me, Sir,” said Roxhythe. 
“So you may have some conception of my poor feelings. 
These weeks have seemed months!” 

Charles drew him to a couch. 

“I vow you have had the best of it, David. I have been 
harassed and over-run with petitions, and what not, and 
empty-headed dolts beside. You would not believe the 
number that have tried to take your place! But there 
is only one Roxhythe. How have you fared?” 

Roxhythe grew solemn. 

“Very badly, Sir.” 

“What’s that? You have been in trouble?—danger?” 

“Not I, Sir. ’Twas my errand that I spoke of.” 


78 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Charles showed surprise. 

“Did you fail, David?” 

“Ay, Sir. There was no hope for success.” 

The King laughed a little ruefully. 

“Well, well! And so you failed! Has such a thing 
ever before come to pass?” 

“Seldom,” said his lordship. “But this time I was very 
grievously beaten.” 

The King settled himself against the cushions. 

“If ’twere not so damned annoying, ’twould be most 
diverting,” he Said. “Tell me, David.” 

Roxhythe proceeded to relate his adventures up to the 
point of Roderick’s appearance on the scene. 

“I would Your Majesty could have seen that man!” he 
sighed. “He gave himself the airs of a duke, and he 
paraded his Puritan views for my edification. I do assure 
you, Sir; that I have never been so set at naught in my 
life. He spoke of the Prince as though he were Master 
of the Universe, and his whole manner was as formal as 
your father his courtiers never were. He came the second 
day with the news that the Prince would grant me an 
audience, as though ’twere some giant favour he were 
bestowing. I went to the Palace at eight in the evening 
—I should tell you, Sir, that I was requested to be punctual 
—and taken to Dart’s room. He led me out by another 
door, along countless gloomy vaults, each darker than 
the last, until we came to a hall. Then we met one of 
the Prince’s not so faithful gentlemen and I became a 
lackey, and was severely reprimanded. We shook off the 
man, and proceeded to the Prince’s apartments. Outside 
one of the doors was yet another man. He, though, was 
one of the Prince’s faithful ones. He sped us on our 
way. Dart ushered me into the room with all solemnity. 
Then he took my pistol from me. I suppose he thought 
I might assassinate His Highness in a fit of depression. At 
all events he took it, and left me to kick my heels, await¬ 
ing the Prince. And all as though I were in very sooth 
a lackey! I, Roxhythe, the King’s envoy! 

“Then came William of Orange ...” he paused. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 79 

Charles, who had been shaken witfi suppressed laughter, 
sat up. 

‘T faith, Davy, I’d give much to have been with you! 
So you were pushed from pillar to post, my poor Marquis? 
Oh, lud!” Again he shook. “But what of my nephew?” 

Roxhythe spoke gravely. 

“Sir, he is a remarkable youth. In appearance he is 
slight, with a hook nose, and eyes that see everything £t 
a glance. His manner is cold, brusque, repressed. His 
personality is overwhelming.” 

“So?” said Charles, interested. “As great as mine?” 

“In its way, Sir, greater. He has none of Your Majesty’s 
charm, but he forces himself into one’s memory. He 
attracts, and he repels. In spite of his youth, and his lack 
of polish, he holds the stage.” 

“Why, Roxhythe, this is marvellous! Proceed!” 

“He received me with as much ceremony as I had by 
that time learnt to expect. He had the air of an Emperor 
giving audience to one poor subject. He read Ashley’s 
packet. Then he asked me what Your Majesty hoped to 
gain by the bargain.” 

Charles burst out laughing again. 

“That I should have missed all this!” 

“I do confess, Sir, I was taken aback. In a very short 
time he showed me that if he was young in years, he was 
old in wisdom. He perceived that Ashley was little more 
than a catspaw; he sneered at the idea of your helping him 
to his rightful place. In fact, Sir, he desires to know why 
you have not come to his aid before now.” 

“The impudent young cockerel!” 

“You would not think so did you but see and hear him, 
Sir. He asked me what was to be the price of all you 
offered. I told him—glibly enough, and evasively. He 
caught me up, and told me all too rightly what I meant. 
He saw through and through that proposition, Sir, and at 
last I was frank with him. I explained Your Majesty’s 
attitude—with reservations. Then the storm burst. Odds 
body, Sir, but when the Prince loses his temper, one 
shivers in one’s shoes. He hailed words about me. He 


80 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


cried that Your Majesty was asking him to barter his 
Country and his honour for his own advancement. He 
bade me tell you that he was not a Stuart. He said he saw 
very clearly how you were seeking to trick him into an 
alliance by which only you would profit. Finally he tore 
the packet into shreds and bade me tell you that that was 
his answer. Then he fell to coughing, and I tried to 
collect my wits. Sir, I argued with that boy until my 
throat was parched, and always he had a ready answer 
wherewith to dumbfound me. He gave away naught with¬ 
out meaning to, and I could not gather what were his 
intentions. But he has evidently received advances from 
King Louis, and I think he hopes to frighten you by hold¬ 
ing that over your head. That he will ally himself with any 
foreign power to gain the Stadtholdership, I do not think 
for a moment. He is as honest as the day, and as astute as 
old Nick himself. He thinks to rise without foreign aid, 
but he told me he would not seek to overthrow a Govern¬ 
ment that he fully acknowledged. He is to be feared, Sir.” 

“My dear David, I must make his further acquaintance. 
Did he send any more insulting messages to me?” 

“A score. He does not trust you or anyone else, Sir, and 
he told me so in good round terms. He bade me tell you 
you that Nassau does not stoop to intrigue behind the 
backs of his ministers. I think already he has quite a little 
Court.” 

Charles was deeply interested. 

“And you think him one to be reckoned with?” 

“More than that, Sir. I think him a great man; one to 
be propitiated at all costs. I foresee that he will rise 
suddenly, and at no very distant date.” 

“We must invite him to England,” said the King. “I am 
agog to see him.” 

“I doubt he would not come. He holds England and the 
English in contempt. Also King Louis. All this he told 
me. I spent a pleasant evening, Sir.” 

Charles rocked with laughter. 

And I thought I could twist him round my finger! 
Zounds, why was I not there to see?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


81 


“It is no laughing matter, Sir. I am too old to be 
ordered about by petty princelings and their servants.” 

Charles sobered suddenly. 

“But, Roxhythe, it is a plaguey nuisance. This means I 
must turn to France.” He bit his finger-nail, frowning. 
Then he smiled again. “So you came away with a flea in 
your ear, my poor Roxhythe? God’s Body, how I have 
ill-used you! But tell me more of William. You say he 
has personality; he attracts. But does he inspire his 
followers with confidence?” 

“Judging from Dart’s airs, yes, Sir. He is very well 
served. It seems his servants would undergo any torture 
ever invented sooner than betray him.” 

Charles made a rueful grimace. 

“And,” continued Roxhythe, “he says himself that he will 
not have any man about him whom he could not trust 
implicitly.” 

“If I said that, I had only you left,” remarked Charles. 

“Precisely. And he seems to allow no familiarity—no 
license. He lives in an atmosphere of gloom and depres¬ 
sion.” Roxhythe looked round the luxurious room. 
“Thank God for Whitehall, and mine own Prince!” he said 
devoutly. 

Charles smiled. 

“He is more kingly than I am, eh?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe instantly. “He is too young to 
unbend. But in intrigue, Sir, you have met your match in 
William of Nassau.” 

“I must have a care,” laughed the King. 

“Indeed yes, Sir. Remember, the Orange is a man, and 
one who must not be forgotten. I foresee trouble. Guard 
against him.” 

“I will,” promised the King. “And now, David, we must 
look to France.” 












Book II 


THE WAYS DIVERGE 






CHAPTER I 

January, 1669 

Christopher settled down very quickly on his return 
from Holland and took up his abode at Bevan House, 
Charing Cross. His duties as secretary were not arduous, 
and consisted for the most part of attending to the affairs 
of Roxhythe’s country estate, and answering the many 
invitations that flocked in. 

He was supremely happy. In spite of all Roderick’s 
gloomy prognostications his love for Roxhythe grew 
steadily. True, he had to some extent re-adjusted his ideas. 
He no longer held my lord up as a model of good be¬ 
haviour; he knew that Roxhythe was careless, frivolous, 
sometimes ruthless. A year ago these facts would have 
been enough to damn my lord in his eyes, but now he 
flattered himself that he was broader-minded. He no 
longer condemned the immoral lives that were led by 
Roxhythe and his associates. Their frivolity and their 
rakishness were at times to be deplored, but Christopher 
could not see that they were without honour. Roderick had 
insinuated that those who frequented Whitehall were 
entirely lacking in morals. He had said that each one 
would barter away his honour for position or money. He 
had even hinted that there were few who would scruple to 
betray their country. 

As far as Christopher could see there was no question 
of such a contingency. It might be true of some, but of 
others it was manifestly untrue. With regard to Roxhythe 
it was ridiculous. He had no interest in politics; he 
laughed at intrigue. His whole life was spent in waiting 
on the King, and amusing himself either at Whitehall or at 
the Louvre. He was above the petty machinations of the 
day; he belonged to no party; he never schemed for his 
own ends. 


85 


86 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Christopher did not pretend to understand him. It 
almost seemed as though his was a dual personality, yet 
the second side of him had appeared for so short a space 
that Christopher half doubted whether he had not been 
suffering from an illusion. 

In Holland Roxhythe had shown himself to be cool- 
headed, energetic, astute. Above all he had proved an 
expert plotter. He had dropped much of his lazy cynicism; 
his languor had mysteriously vanished. But when the 
intrigue was at an end back had come the old Roxhythe, 
just as languid, just as indifferent. No word of politics 
ever passed his lips; no suspicion of plotting was evident. 

Christopher was nonplussed. Eventually he came to the 
conclusion that Roxhythe was not an intriguer from choice. 
It was only when commanded by His Majesty that he roused 
himself. 

Roderick had inferred that Roxhythe worked not for 
England but for his own ends. The idea was beneath 
contempt. Roxhythe had shown clearly that he worked for 
the King alone. The King, of course, worked for the 
Country. It was all one. 

Christopher understood that Roxhythe did not wish his 
powers as an intriguer to be known. That was natural. 
Once discovered, he could not act with the same freedom. 
At first Christopher had thought his habitual indifference 
a mask, but as time went on he decided that it was as real 
as the other half of him. He realized that he could never 
hope to fathom the depths of my lord’s nature; perhaps 
he did not wish to try. He was content to love an enigma. 
He knew that Roxhythe could be astute; he knew that he 
was mostly obtuse; he could be ruthless, or he could be 
kindness personified. To Christopher he had been kind. 
He seemed to take an amused pleasure in fathering him; 
he introduced him at Jeremy’s, one of the great coffee¬ 
houses; he took him to routs and to balls. In all matters 
of dress and fashion he advised him; his house and servants 
were at Christopher’s disposal. 

It was a curious friendship. On the one side was bound¬ 
less affection and unlimited confidence; on the other a 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


87 


casual liking and absolute reticence. Partly it was 
accounted for by the difference in age. Roxhythe was more 
than twenty years Christopher’s senior and it was not to be 
expected that he should confide in the younger man to any 
great extent. But Christopher knew nothing of Roxhythe’s 
life. The surface was free for inspection. There were 
countless amours, countless trivialities, but of what lay 
beneath the boy had been allowed only a glimpse. Never 
again had he seen it; all that met his eyes was a cynical 
roue, fascinating and repellent by turns. He loved this 
roue as he had never loved before. There had been no 
woman in his short life, there still was not. Roxhythe 
possessed his whole heart. Whatever Roderick might say 
to the contrary, Christopher knew that Roxhythe would 
always possess it. It was to no avail to analyse the why 
and wherefore of his love; there was no reason for it but 
that subtle attraction which my lord held for him. He was 
content to love, secure in the belief that his love would 
never be betrayed. He wanted nothing in return; he asked 
no confidences and was not disappointed that he received 
none. He gave the very best that was in him, happy that 
this should be so. 

Before he had entered Roxhythe’s service his life had 
been singularly devoid of colour. His mother died when 
he was a child, and his father had had Roderick’s cold 
nature. They came of old Puritan stock; they were very 
godly, and also very repressed. Madam Dart, who was 
not of her husband’s persuasions, had bequeathed her 
sunny personality to Christopher. She had nothing else 
to give him. On account of this bequest there had been no 
understanding between Christopher and his father, and 
very little between Christopher and his brother. Both Mr. 
Dart and Roderick felt that he was not akin to them; they 
feared that he was weak and easily led astray. They 
deplored his early craving for excitement, and they did 
their uttermost to quench the craving. Then, shortly after 
Roderick’s departure for Holland, Mr. Dart died. At first 
Christopher felt lost and vaguely frightened, but the feel¬ 
ing had faded and given place to a glorious sensation of 


88 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


freedom. Then Roxhythe had blazed into his life, shocking 
him. Disapproval had, in its turn, given way to love. 
His mind had broadened; he lost the shreds of intolerance 
that had been instilled into him. One thing he retained: 
love for Country counted above all else. His father’s 
creed as Christopher’s also. Nothing mattered as much as 
England. Her honour and welfare must stand first. 

Roderick had conceived that they did not stand first with 
either Roxhythe or the King. He was undoubtedly crazed. 
The King was naturally above reproach. Equally above 
reproach was Roxhythe. Christopher cast his brother’s 
warnings to the four winds. 

He was interested in politics and listened closely to all 
the arguments that took place at Jeremy’s. There was 
usually some conversation concerning Home Affairs and 
the King’s intentions. It was well known that Charles 
squandered away more money than he possessed, and men 
wondered how he would contrive to pay off his load of 
debts. 

Foreign Affairs were also discussed, especially the men¬ 
ace of France to Holland. Everyone knew that Louis would 
never rest until he had annexed those Provinces which he 
claimed, and everyone hoped that England would throw 
herself seriously into the conflict. Such a contingency 
would surely turn the scale against Louis. King Louis 
was universally feared; he was growing too powerful, and 
too belligerent. It was known, too, that he coveted 
the throne of Spain for one of his own children. If the 
ailing young Spanish King died, matters would become 
serious. On no account must Louis be allowed to seize 
Spain. 

Christopher was deeply interested. He had the hatred 
of the average Englishman of the time for France. He 
wished that Roxhythe would discuss these matters with him, 
but Roxhythe only laughed and protested that such con¬ 
versation was too deep for him. 

At the present moment my lord was in Paris. He had 
been away a week, and on Christopher’s shoulders had 
fallen the strenuous task of making his excuses to the 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 89 

various people whose invitations to routs and dinners he 
had ignored. 

These visits to France were always unexpected. 
Suddenly my lord would remark that he could bear London 
no longer. He would depart with perhaps a day’s warn¬ 
ing. More suddenly would he return, with no warning at 
all. Christopher supposed that he went because of some 
Frenchwoman. Gossip said so, and he, knowing Roxhythe, 
believed Gossip. 

He was seated in the library one morning, sorting out my 
lord’s correspondence, when he heard a leisurely footfall 
without. He lifted his head, listening, for the step was 
familiar. 

The curtains over the doorway parted. Roxhythe came 
into the room. 

Accustomed as he was to my lord’s ways, Christopher 
was still surprised. He sprang up. 

“Sir! I had no idea you were in town!” 

Roxhythe smiled at him. 

“Nor was I until an hour ago.” He went to the table 
and turned over his letters. “You are well, Chris?” 

“Very well. And you? You had a pleasant visit?” 

“Quite amusing,” nodded Roxhythe. “Need I look at 
all these?” He flipped a pile of letters with his finger. 

Christopher glanced through them. 

“There are one or two letters from Lady Flora, sir,” he 
said. 

“They will keep. She is becoming wearisome.” He sat 
down. “Have you any news, Chris?” 

Christopher put the letters in the drawer. 

“Nothing of great import, sir. Lord Buckhurst requests 
the pleasure of your company at a supper-party he is giving 
on Wednesday. I accepted for you. Sir Malcom Digby 
begs you will honour him on Friday at Shawn House. Mr. 
Carver gives a dance for Miss Rosiland next month. I 
have not answered that.” 

“Carver? I do not think I have the honour . . 

“You have forgotten, sir. He is the man who gave us 
shelter the night we rode to Bevan in the storm.” 


90 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“That wealthy tradesman?” asked his lordship. “What 
impudence!” 

“I am to refuse?” 

“Naturally. Stay—this Rosiland—have you seen her?” 

“She’s young and shy, sir.” 

“Oh, refuse, refuse!” said Roxhythe impatiently. 
“Oddslife, what is the world coming to that that upstart 
should invite me to his house? Naught else?” 

“Naught else, sir, unless it be my Lord Arlington’s 
invitation to supper and cards. I accepted.” 

“Well I need not go,” remarked my lord. 

“Then I think you will greatly offend Lord Arlington, 
sir. 

One haughty eyebrow rose the fraction of an inch. 

“Oh? What maggot has Bennett in his head now?” 

“He seemed anxious that you should go. And—and he 
has influence. He was not pleased that you refused his last 
invitation.” 

“Oho! You think I should do well not to offend his 
lordship?” 

“Well, sir, he would make a powerful enemy.” 

“But not, I think, so powerful an enemy as Roxhythe.” 
My lord rose and stretched himself. “I suppose I must to 
Whitehall.” He lounged out. 

An hour later, his dress changed, his person powdered 
and perfumed, he walked into the King’s presence. 

Charles was in the midst of his Court, talking to Lady 
Castlemaine. Way was made for my lord to pass up to his 
couch. He went forward gracefully, bowing to right and 
left in answer to the many nods and smiles. 

“Why, here is our good Roxhythe!” cried her ladyship, 
welcoming him. “See, Sir!” 

“I see a base deserter,” said Charles. He held out his 
hand. “I believe you love his French Majesty more than 
me, David.” 

Roxhythe bent over it. 

“No,” he said, inimitably. “His French Majesty was 
an interlude, no more.” 

Charles joined in the general laugh. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


91 


“How doth His Majesty?” he asked. 

“Very well,” said Roxhythe. “Very expensively.” 

“Surely that’s Roxhythe?” came a voice from behind. 
“I thought so! Well, my lord? So you’ve returned to 
us?” 

Roxhythe bowed to the slim, graceful youth who came 
up to the group about the King. 

“As your Grace sees,” he said. 

Monmouth leant on the back of the couch, above Charles, 
smiling, debonair. 

“I thought I could not be mistaken. I would swear to 
your presence in a room of a thousand people!” 

“You are a flatterer,” Roxhythe shook his head. “You 
had best visit Versailles.” 

Monmouth sighed. He put back his curls with one 
delicate, white hand. 

“I have a mind to. I have a great desire to visit the 
French Court.” 

“Ah, no!” said Charles, quickly, raising his hand. He 
laid it affectionately on his son’s arm. “I cannot spare 
you, James.” 

“You spared Roxhythe,” shrugged Monmouth. There 
was a suspicion of triumph in the glance he shot at my lord. 

“Needs must,” quoth Charles, ruefully. “Roxhythe stays 
for no man.” 

“Not even for Your Majesty?” asked Lady Castlemaine. 

Charles smiled. 

“I wonder?” he said. “Can one catch a star?” 

“I take it ’tis a question of holding a star,” remarked 
Killigrew, coming up to them. “ Twould be interesting to 
test Lord Roxhythe his devotion.” He spoke lightly, jest¬ 
ingly, but there was too much of the sneer in his voice for 
Charles’ liking. The look he gave him was cold. 

“See the wretch now!” exclaimed Lady Castlemaine. 
She was in great good humour to-day. “I’ll swear he is 
searching for his lady-love! Are you not, Roxhythe?” 

Roxhythe turned his head. 

“Which one, Lady Castlemaine?” 

She spread out her hands in mock protest. 


92 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“The latest; the dearest!” smiled Monmouth. 

“Alas! There is no dearest.” 

“What! Dead, my lord?” 

“No.” Roxhythe sat down. “Faded, sir.” 

“Already? I thought the little Crosby woman—” 

“But I tire so easily,” complained his lordship. 

“You are a scoundrel, Roxhythe.” It was the King who 
spoke. “I vow I do not know why I keep you near me!” 

“Oh, I can give Your Majesty the answer to that!” 
replied Roxhythe, placidly. 

“Give it then!” Charles turned, ready to be amused. 

Roxhythe’s eyes travelled slowly round the room. 

“Amongst so much virtue . . .” he began, and got no 
further. Protesting, laughing voices chided him. 

Charles rose. 

“Ye all appear horrified at the idea of any virtue being 
found amongst you,” he sighed, his eyes alight with 
laughter. “Well, I’ll set your minds at rest. Without 
doubt ye are the most outrageous subjects in Christendom. 
David, I want you! I have it in mind to give a ball which 
shall excel all others ever held between these walls. I 
must have your sage counsel.” He linked his arm through 
Roxhythe’s, and shook a reproving finger at his small court. 
“I’ll leave you to your various wickednesses,” he said. 
“God wot, ye are not fit company for me!” 

A slight stir by the door announced the entrance of the 
Queen. She came slowly across the room on her way to her 
apartments, a short, insignificant figure, primly garbed in 
riding-dress. 

Charles withdrew his arm and went to meet her. 

Her dark eyes with their vague unhappiness scanned him 
a thought anxiously as he bent over her hand. 

“Well, madam? You have been riding?” The King 
spoke kindly, as one speaks to a child. 

Katherine inclined her head. 

“Yes, Sir.” Some of the apathy went out of her voice. 

The daffodils are already blooming in the Park.” 

“Are they so? It was a pleasant ride, sweet?” 

“Not very, Sir. I wished you had been with me.” She 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


93 


looked up at him sadly. '“The people would have cheered.” 

“Why, madam, they cheer for you!” said Charles, patting 
her hand. 

No, said the Queen. “No.” She looked round the 
room. Lady Castlemaine curtseyed as the lack-lustre eyes 
passed her. Katherine made no sign. Then she saw 
Roxhythe, and smiled. The smile changed her whole face. 
It held appeal, shy coquetry; it dispersed some of her 
stiffness. 

“I did not know you were in London, my lord,” she said. 

Roxhythe came forward at once, and kissed her hand. 

“I hope Your Majesty is better than when I left you?” 
His tone held something near warmth. 

“I am very well,” answered Katherine. “We have missed 
you, my lord.” 

“Your Majesty is too kind,” he said gravely. 

“You should have been with us to-day,” she continued. 
“The spring has come so early this year! The flowers are 
all opening in the Park. It was very pretty.” Her eyes 
went back to the King, wistfully. Charles had no interest 
in flowers; he was not attending. Roxhythe it was who 
answered. 

“I shall beg you to let me come in your train again one 
day, madam,” he said. “You have not asked me of late.” 

“Because I thought you would not care to,” she replied. 
“I do wish, though, that you might accompany me.” 

“I should be very greatly honoured, madam,” he bowed. 
“I shall await your commands.” 

“One would almost imagine that he wanted to ride with 
her!” murmured Killigrew in Buckingham’s ear. “Is it 
possible that the fastidious Roxhythe is epris in that 
direction?” 

Buckingham shook his head. 

“No. He has always been the same with her. I suppose 
he seeks to curry favour!” He sneered. 

Roxhythe followed Charles to his closet. There the 
King flung himself down on the luxuriously cushioned 
window-seat. 

“I doubt the Queen is not happy,” he remarked, frown- 


94 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


ing. “She takes no interest in our pleasures and she hath 
always the air of one moped to death.” 

“The Queen hath a great regard for Your Majesty,” said 
Roxhythe deliberately. 

Charles jerked an impatient shoulder. 

“Oh, ay! Ye think I do not notice her enough. 
She should be more cheerful. She wearies me—poor 
woman,” he added. “Ye heard to-day; the people do 
not like her nor cheer when she passes. Well, ’tis not my 
fault.” 

“If Your Majesty went with the Queen, the people 
would cheer,” answered my lord. 

“Roxhythe, I will not be taken to task like this!” said 
Charles pettishly. “You had best accompany her! The 
people do always cheer when you ride out. Mayhap she 
will think ’tis for her.” 

“You make a mistake, Sir, when you dub Her Majesty a 
fool.” 

Charles stared at him. 

“Are you an admirer?” he asked. 

“I admire, and have always admired Her Majesty’s brave 
spirit,” said Roxhythe. 

Charles was silent. Presently he changed the subject, 
speaking coldly. 

“Well, did you ascertain Louis his attitude?” 

Roxhythe shrugged. 

“He realizes that he must come to the movement of your 
finger, Sir.” 

Charles’ brow cleared as if by magic. 

“I always thought he would! He may rest assured that 
I shall move that finger to some purpose. I tell you, 
Roxhythe, I must have money, or I fall. What is Louis his 
figure?” 

“I do not know, Sir.” 

“Arundell said two million.” 

“I am sorry to have to disagree with my Lord Arundell, 
but it is too much.” 

“Are you sure, David?” 

“As sure as I am over anything, Sir.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


95 


“A pity.” Charles rested his chin in his hand. “Ye 
think Arundell a fool?” 

“No. I do not think he understands the French mind.” 

“Nor I. ’Tis for that reason that I want you to help 
me. Colbert has proposals to put before me.” 

M. Colbert de Croissy was the French ambassador, 
brother to the great Colbert, Minister of Finance in France. 

Roxhythe was amused. 

“It should be interesting to hear what he says,” he 
remarked. 

“So I think. Roxhythe, I have seen that Clifford may he 
won over.” 

“Our incorruptible Chancellor!” said Roxhythe. “Well, 
well!” 

“Not at all. He hath great faith in mine integrity. 
From what he said I gather that Colbert means to put the 
matter very plausibly. Arlington is, of course, my man; 
Arundell also. I propose to summon Clifford to my 
chamber next week when I shall also receive M. Colbert. 
Then we shall see how the matter strikes Clifford.” 

Roxhythe nodded. 

“And what of His Grace of York, Sir?” 

“James is mad for the promotion of the Catholic faith 
in the country. All else will fade before that.” 

“It seems very well,” said Roxhythe. He sighed. 

Charles heard the sigh. 

“You do not like it, Roxhythe?” 

There was a pause. 

“No, Sir, I do not.” 

“You do not like that I should make an alliance with 
France?” 

“I would it might have been otherwise.” 

“But it cannot be otherwise,” fretted the King. 

“No, Sir?” 

“You know it cannot! I tried to avoid it by an alliance 
with Nassau, but he'd have none of it. What else can 
I do? I must have means or I shall be entirely dependent 
on Parliament. I am sore beset! And now if you turn 
against me—” 


96 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I shall never do that, Sir.” The answer came quietly, 
but very emphatically. “If you want a compact with 
France you must have it. It matters nothing to me. Only 
one thing do I consider and that is your pleasure.” 

Charles put out his hand. 

“Ah, David! And yet you dislike it?” 

“I dislike it—yes.” 

“Because you think I am planning to sell England to 
Louis?” 

His smile crept into Roxhythe’s eyes. 

“Now you are ridiculous, Sir.” 

Charles’ hand gripped his. 

“You believe in me?” 

“I believe that you will contrive to out-wit Louis.” 

“That is evasive. You think I am not acting for 
England?” 

“I know you are not.” 

Charles laughed. 

“I suppose you are right. But I do not think I shall 
harm her.” 

“Nor I, Sir. And I do not think you will do her any 

good.” 

Charles looked at him curiously. 

“Roxhythe—you care for England?” 

“I used to, Sir.” 

“And now?” 

“Nothing counts save your pleasure. I stand or fall with 
you.” 

Brown eyes met brown. 

“And naught else counts . . . not even the Country?” 
said Charles slowly. 

Roxhythe carried the hand that lay in his to his lips. 

Since your ways diverge, Sir, no.” 


CHAPTER II 


The Offer 

James, Duke of York, sat at the table drumming on it 
with restless fingers. Charles, the King, lolled as usual on 
the window-seat, playing with one of his spaniels. Sir 
Thomas Clifford, Chancellor, sat stiffly by the fire and 
looked ill-at-ease, which indeed he was. There was silence 
save for the yapping of the spaniel. 

Presently the Duke pushed back his chair. 

“Will the man never come?” he said. 

Charles did not raise his eyes. Sir Thomas glanced at 
the clock. 

“It—it wants ten minutes to the hour, sir,” he said pro- 
pitiatingly. 

James shrugged impatiently. He looked over at his 
brother. The spaniel’s yapping jarred on him. 

“Is Lord Roxhythe not expected until three, Sir?” he 
asked. 

“No,” answered the King. 

“Would it not have been better to have seen him before 
M. Colbert?” James did not conceal his impatience well. 

“Wherefore?” 

Charles yawned. 

Quick foot-steps came along the passage. 

“Perhaps this is he?” hazarded Clifford. 

“My Lord Roxhythe never hurries,” sneered James. 
“This is M. Colbert.” 

The French ambassador entered, and cast a swift glance 
round the room. He swept a bow to the King. 

“Sire!” He turned. “Altesse!” He turned again. “Sir 
Thomas!” 

Charles nodded easily. 

“Pray sit down, monsieur. We are delighted to see you. 

James rose jerkily and went forward. 

97 


98 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You are very punctual, M. Colbert. Will you take this 
chair? We still lack Lord Roxhythe.” 

“It still wants three minutes to the hour, sir,” remarked 
Clifford. 

“No doubt ye have heard from His French Majesty?” 
asked James, ignoring the interruption. 

Colbert bowed. 

“A plaguey damp day, eh, monsieur?” drawled the King. 

The Frenchman’s dark eyes twinkled. 

“As Your Majesty says,” he agreed. 

“You don’t have such weather in your country,” went on 
Charles. “ ’Tis a forturnate land.” 

The Duke shut his eyes, exasperated. Charles glanced 
cit th .0 dock 

“The hour,” he said. “And—I think—Roxhythe.” 

The three other men turned to look at the door. 

It opened. Mr. Chaffinch, the King’s confidential page, 
announced my Lord Roxhythe and my lord came in 
unhurriedly. 

His chestnut wig was nicely curled, and hung down over 
his shoulders; his dress was carefully chosen. In one hand 
he carried his hat; in the other, his comfit-box and cane. 
His calm, rather ironic eyes travelled slowly round the 
room, and came to rest on the King. He made a very low 
bow. Then he made another which included all the room. 

The Duke of York’s brows drew closer together. 

“Davy,” sighed the King. “You are punctuality per¬ 
sonified! How a-God’s name, do you manage it?” 

“I really don’t know, Sir,” said Roxhythe. “I believe 
it must be a habit.” 

“A vice,” answered Charles, mournfully. “One which I 
do not possess. I think you know M. Colbert?” 

“I have that honour,” bowed Roxhythe. 

“Then I need present nobody,” said the King. “How 
very fortunate! Oh, sit down, Davy! sit down!” He 
waved him to a chair. 

Roxhythe sat down and crossed one leg over the other. 
He looked expectant. 

Charles sighed. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 99 

“Proceed, gentlemen,” he counselled them, stroking his 
dog’s head. 

“Do you wish me to—conduct the conversation, Sir?” 
asked James bluntly. 

“Pray do!” begged the King. 

James turned to the Frenchman. 

“M. Colbert, you advised His Majesty some time since 
that you had certain propositions to lay before him, coming 
from King Louis. For the sake of these other gentlemen, 
will you be good enough to repeat them?” He sat back in 
his chair, his eyes keen and alert. 

M. Colbert twisted one of his rings round. 

“But certainly, m’sieu’. It comes to my master’s ears 
that King Charles was not quite at one with his Cabinet over 
the Dutch Alliance. He is relieved, naturellernent, for he 
has always been King Charles’ very good friend and cousin. 
He feared once that the alliance might lead to war between 
England and France—oh, ridiculous, of course! but there 
was a chance of such a thing—and he would be loth to fight 
one whom he wishes so well. Of course. He knows that 
there are in England, many Catholic gentlemen . . .” 
he bowed to Clifford. “. . .of whom Sir Thomas is 
one. The interests of the Church are his, as they are of 
every good Catholic ...” he bowed to James. 
“. . . he is desirous of seeing England return to the 
old Faith. He believes, too, that King Charles would give 
much to see this.” 

King Charles twisted the spaniel’s ears above its head, 
and eyed the effect pensively. 

“He realizes, however, that it is not an easy matter for 
King Charles to drive the true Faith into his country— 
without assistance. But for such a cause—a cause that is 
ever nearest his heart—His Majesty would readily lend 
assistance. 

“There is also another side, messieurs. For many years 
England and France have been enemies. His Majesty 
desires that this shall be so no longer. He would make a 
compact with England that should seal forever the friend¬ 
ship of two countries that lie at each other’s doors—two 


100 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


countries that are the most powerful in the world. He 
thinks it more than a pity that such countries should be at 
enmity, as must be the case if England allies herself with 
the Provinces. 

“His Majesty knows that, together, England and France 
are all-powerful. Together they might do aught they 
pleased. It might be thought, messieurs, that His Majesty 
would be desirous of annexing England for his own. Such 
could never be the case. His Majesty would never interfere 
with England save at England’s wish. It might be thought 
that he would desire England to pay him tribute. He does 
not. If it should be that France makes war, he would want 
England to join her, should he call for help. He would 
share with King Charles, not the expenses, which he would 
pay himself, but the profits of war. He would hold him¬ 
self bound to come to England’s aid if ever she should call, 
exacting naught in payment, messieurs, save a share in the 
profits. More than that even would he be prepared to do: 
he would bear all the expenses of any war of his making, 
and a large share of the expenses of a war on England’s 
side. You must agree, messieurs, that His Majesty is 
generous.” 

Clifford moved, turning his head. 

“To what ends, monsieur?” 

“To the end, Sir Thomas, that he may prove himself 
England’s friend, and the Church’s friend.” 

Clifford pursed his lips. 

“If this be so, His Majesty is indeed generous,” he said. 

The Frenchman inclined his head. 

“There is another private matter,” he pursued, more 
slowly. “His Majesty apprehends that King Charles finds 
it difficult to live as should live a Monarch of his degree.” 
He turned to Charles. “Your Majesty will forgive me if 
I speak too plainly.” 

Charles nodded casually. 

“I thank Your Majesty. King Louis, I say, knows this. 
During the years of his exile, King Charles his purse was 
very surely drained, as was natural, in his efforts to come 
back to an ungrateful people. The many grievous losses 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


101 


that he sustained could not be repaid to him in full. His 
Majesty, my master, hath a great regard for his cousin; it 
grieves him to see King Charles in any way pressed for 
money. He, King Louis, has not had to bear such drains 
on his private purse, and he is, as you, messieurs, no doubt 
know, moderately wealthy. Because of this love which he 
bears King Charles, he is anxious to supply him with means 
wherewith to live as he should. He knows that King 
Charles is too noble, too kindly a man to tax his people 
as did—forgive me, Sire—his father. He thinks it little 
less than shameful that by reason of this true nobility of 
mind King Charles should be in want. Quite privately he 
would desire to make King Charles an allowance. This he 
could not do, as you must realize, messieurs, if England 
were at enmity with France. But this private matter has 
naught to do with the other matter of which I have already 
spoken. It is a gift from one cousin to another, if King 
Charles will have it so, and not deem himself insulted by 
King Louis his offer.” 

There was a long pause. 

Roxhythe played idly with the tassels of his glove, his 
face inscrutable. James was looking at Clifford, who sat 
staring into the fire. 

“It is for you, Sir Thomas, to speak,” said the Duke at 
last. 

Clifford raised his head. He spoke bluntly. 

“M. Colbert, King Louis his offer would appear to be 
generous to an extreme. Yet this offer of money to His 
Majesty savours too much of bribery for my liking.” 

The Duke of York stiffened. Over M. Colbert’s face 
came a look of pained surprise. Roxhythe stopped play¬ 
ing with his gloves. Only Charles paid no heed. 

“Sir Thomas, I am sure you cannot realize that such a 
suggestion is little less than an insult to His Majesty! ’ 
said James harshly. 

“And to my master,” came haughtily from Colbert. 

“I crave His Majesty’s pardon if I offended,” answered 
Clifford, red to the ears. “But I still say that the offer has 
that appearance.” 


102 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


James was about to reply, but with a deprecating smile 
Colbert forestalled him. 

“You are perfectly right, Sir Thomas. To an evil¬ 
thinking world that to no man accords the desire to do good 
for goodness’ sake alone, King Louis’ entirely disinterested 
offer smacks of bribery. It is for this reason that he 
would wish the matter kept secret. He expects to gain 
nothing by this offer. It is made out of his love for King 
Charles, not from any desire of gain for himself. He 
could not, of course, voice such a proposal were England 
and France at disagreement. I have given you his reasons 
for wishing their friendship; this private offer to King 
Charles is no part of it. It has naught to do with the State; 
it is between man and man. Yet His Majesty foresaw that 
the public, who, being low-minded, credit all others with 
their same motives, would cry shame to King Charles for 
accepting a bribe. The muck and run of men, Sir Thomas, 
will not believe that a man can be generous, hoping to 
gain nothing by his generosity. I had not judged you to be 
of this class; I still do not. I know that you spoke in the 
heat of the moment, not giving yourself time to reflect. 
Had you done so, you would have seen how wrong—pardon 
me—how base were your suspicions.” 

Clifford met his reproachful look, and stammered hope¬ 
lessly. 

“His Majesty knows—that I—that you—that I meant no 
offence—by what I said. Perhaps—that is, of course, I 
spoke heatedly. I would not accuse King Louis—of—of 
descending to—bribery. I could not think that His 
Majesty—” he cast a flurried glance at Charles, “—would 
countenance a—a bribe. I—I but said it savoured of that, 
as—as I think it does, sir!” 

“It is for that reason that the matter should be kept 
secret, Sir Thomas. I confess, if I had thought you would 
take this tone I had not mentioned the matter to you. 
Knowing you to be an upright man, I had hardly expected 
you to impute dishonourable motives to others.” 

Sir Thomas collapsed. 

“Sir, you misunderstand me! I—I meant no rudeness to 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


103 


His Majesty! I—” he floundered hopelessly and stopped. 

M. Colbert wiped his lips with a delicately laced hand¬ 
kerchief. 

“I am much relieved to hear you say so, Sir Thomas. 
May I now go on to my next point?” 

The Duke nodded shortly. 

“It is this: His Majesty is fully alive to the fact that 
there are in your English Cabinet many honest gentlemen 
who are yet very stubborn and narrow. They, like many 
other ignorant people, are averse from dealing with France. 
They are Protestants, messieurs. They may be drawn to the 
right way of looking at a French alliance, but at present 
they will not listen to reason. Once it was proved to them 
that France desired nothing but friendship from England, 
their objections would fade. They would see that an 
alliance with France was for their country’s good. In 
holding away from it they, all unwittingly, work great 
harm on England. They cannot be brought round at 
present, but is it to be permitted that they should do 
England this great wrong? They have proved stubborn; 
they have showed that they will not listen to argument. 
Shall they not then be ignored? They would raise 
an outcry; they would prevail upon the ignorance of 
the people; they would prevent an alliance. Then they 
must know naught until the thing is done, when they 
will soon see that it is not a great evil, but a great 
good.” 

“You mean a secret treaty?” asked Clifford blankly. 

“Secret only for the moment,” promptly replied Colbert. 
“Think on what I have said, monsieur, and tell me if this 
great thing for England is to be quenched by a party of 
dogged Protestants.” 

“I do see the truth in what you say, sir, but there are 
many points against it.” 

“Will you not name them, Sir Thomas?” 

“The first and foremost of them is this, sir: what you 
propose is no less than a violation of the Triple Alliance, 
whereby we bound ourselves to stand by Holland against 
France if need be. Your proposal is a treaty with an enemy 


104 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


country made behind the hacks of the rest of the Cabinet. 
It likes me not.” 

“It is true that we ignore these ignorant gentlemen. 
But have I not proved to you that it is for England’s good? 
Do you value these gentlemen’s feelings above your 
country?” 

“Not I, sir. But I had sooner that they were made 
cognizant of the affair.” 

“So they might hold lengthy debates, raise an outcry, 
and howl it down? You must see that it is impossible. 
They will realize afterwards that it is for their country’s 
good.” 

Clifford spoke sarcastically now. 

“Not if you seek to force Catholicism down their throats, 
sir.” 

James frowned, biting his lip. Colbert waved his hand 
expressively. 

“You do not credit my master with much perspicacity if 
you do not realize that he has foreseen that, Sir Thomas. 
He is not an impetuous man. He sees that the introduction 
—rather, I should say, the furtherance—of Catholicism in 
England must be brought about slowly, and with great care. 
He has no mind to raise a hubbub. He has no mind to 
‘force’ the Faith into England. He even sees that it 
cannot be as yet. He is content to wait until King Charles 
calls to him. If King Charles finds it not necessary to call, 
he will be the more thankful. He wants not to interfere 
in another man’s country. Very earnestly does he counsel 
King Charles not to hasten this great work to its undoing. 
The time is not yet.” 

James stirred restlessly, and seemed about to speak. 
Then he checked himself. 

After a short pause Colbert continued. 

“I would not ask you to give a hasty decision, Sir 
Thomas. I ask you to think over all I have said before 
you speak.” 

“I shall most certainly do so,” said Clifford. “I cannot 
but see that there are great points in favour of this plan, 
but, as I have told you, there are points which like me 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


105 


not. But I will think on it. Is there—anything further?” 

“At present, nothing, sir.” 

“Then . . . ?” Sir Thomas looked hesitatingly at the 
King. “Have I Your Majesty’s leave to withdraw?” He 
rose as he spoke. So did Colbert. So also did Charles 
and Roxhythe. 

“I too,” said the Frenchman. 

Charles nodded. He spoke for the first time since the 
beginning of the interview. 

“We have to thank you, M. Colbert, for your patience. 
We will speak on this more fully later on. We will not 
keep you.” 

Colbert bowed over his hand and went out. 

Charles turned to Clifford. His wonderful smile dawned. 

“You will think me seriously on this, Sir Thomas? And 
you’ll not believe ill of your poor King?” 

“Sire!” Clifford caught his hand, kissing it. “I crave 
Your Majesty’s pardon again and again.” 

“Why, there is naught to forgive,” said Charles gently. 
“I but ask that you’ll not think evil of me.” 

“I could not, Sir! I—I—” Clifford kissed his hand 
again. “I spoke in heat.” 

“Then that is very well,” smiled Charles. He watched 
him leave the room, smiling. 

“M. Colbert—speaks you very fair, Sir,” said James. 

Charles regarded him thoughtfully, his eyes alight with 
laughter. He shifted the dog under his arm. 

“Damned plausible, a’n’t he?” he chuckled, and walked 
slowly back to his seat. 

The Duke watched him uneasily. Roxhythe continued 
to play with his gloves. 

“You don’t believe in the French King’s offer, Sir?” 
asked James abruptly. 

“I want to know what lies behind.” 

“You heard M. Colbert.” 

“I heard a deal of smooth talk.” 

James sighed. 

“You don’t trust Louis, Sir?” 

“Do you?” riposted the King. 


106 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

James stared down at his hand lying clenched on the 
table. 

“I trust very few people, Sir. I want no French yoke 
about our necks. But is this a yoke?” 

“Louis would wish it to be without a doubt,” replied the 
King. “The question is: can I circumvent him?” 

“Yes.” It was Roxhythe who spoke. “Louis cannot 
afford to offend you, Sir.” . „ 

“If it comes to that, I cannot well afford to offend Louis,” 
remarked the King. 

“Better than can he, Sir. At all costs he must have 
England, if not at his side, at least not against him. 
England turns the scale.” 

“That is so,” agreed James. “If Louis plans more wars 
on the Continent he must be assured of England’s help. 
And there is the cause. For that the alliance is all- 
important.” 

Charles became exasperated. 

“James, I am thinking of the Cause, as you call it. What 
matters it to us if England is Catholic or no? It is 
a secondary consideration. I am thinking how I may 
profit by the alliance and yet prevent Louis making of me a 
catspaw.” 

“Then, Sir, we are privy to this thing from different 
motives! I wonder that you weigh your own petty 
advantages before the great Cause! I am privy to the bond 
only for the good it may do the country! With France 
at our back we may successfully drive the Faith into the 
country. It seems that you are privy to the thing for the 
pecuniary good it may do you!” 

Charles nodded amiably. His brother’s outbursts never 
had the slightest effect on his good-humour. 

“Quite right, Jamie. And if I am not like to profit over¬ 
much I’ll have naught to do with an alliance that bids fair 
to be a plaguey nuisance.” 

Roxhythe laid his hat on the table. Charles glanced 
affectionately in his direction. 

“And that brings us to Roxhythe his share in the busi¬ 
ness. Davy, I have had but one word with you since you 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


107 


returned from Paris. Tell us exactly what you ascer¬ 
tained.” 

The Duke leaned back in his chair, scowling. He never 
liked Roxhythe. 

“There is not much to tell, Sir. As yet the scheme is in 
embryo. Madame d’Orleans is very secret.” 

“I wonder if I did right to negotiate through her?” said 
the King. “But I could trust Holies.” 

“You did quite right, Sir. Madame is to be trusted. At 
present she is vague—partly because Louis is vague. We 
must walk carefully. It has been made clear to me that 
Louis wants to hold England at his beck and call. The 
offer of aid to you is a bribe, of course. If he fails to 
snare you he will try to bribe the more corruptible members 
of the House. At all costs he must have England to back 
him in his wars on Holland. Roughly speaking what he 
wants is this: to have England aid him in these wars, and 
to have England uphold him in his right to any new titles 
that may fall to him.” 

“I had guessed the Spanish business to be in his mind,” 
said Charles. “That will not harm me. War with the 
Dutch? H’m! Does he know my people’s temper, I 
wonder?” 

“I think he has great faith in Your Majesty’s adroitness. 
He stipulates too that the Catholic Faith shall be propa¬ 
gated in England. But remember, Sir, war on Holland is 
his first thought!” 

“Is it?” said Charles cheerfully. “I do not think it is 
mine, though.” 

James lifted his eyes. 

“The Promotion of the Faith is the first matter to be 
attended to,” he said. 

Charles pursed his lips. 

“I might stipulate for that, Davy. I should gain time.” 

“You might, Sir.” 

“You must!” corrected James sharply. “It serves a 
double purpose. If you successfully drive the Faith in you 
make your position the more secure, and you know that 
you have done your duty as a Catholic.” 


108 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Very comforting,” said Charles. “The first purpose 
appeals to me more. There is another thing, Roxhythe. 

“What is that, Sir?” 

“If Louis subdues the Provinces I want provision made 
for my nephew.” 

James stared at him. 

“Why?” 

Charles did not look at him. 

“You understand, Roxhythe?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“But why?” persisted James. 

“Another double purpose, Jamie. Because I pledged my 
word to his mother to protect his interests.” 

“You’ve not done much to protect them during all these 
years!” 

Charles spoke with quiet majesty. 

“I have done all that was in my power to do.” 

“Beyond protesting to De Witt—” 

“I could do naught. Nor was it necessary. The Prince 
has been well cared for, and he was but a child. Now it 
is different. 

“Evidently!” said James. “But where is your double 
purpose?” 

The King’s eyes met Roxhythe’s. 

“I believe it were politic to placate my nephew. I desire 
to stand well with him.” 

James pulled at his lip. 

“A mere child. Why?” 

“Because I think that he will one day become a power not 
lightly to be overlooked. Are you satisfied?” 

James was silent. 

“And now, Roxhythe, it is for you to determine the price. 
Louis refused the two million.” 

“Two million?” exclaimed James. “What folly!” He 
rose. “With your leave, Sir, I’ll withdraw. You will best 
arrange this alone!” 

“Very well,” said Charles. He watched him go out. 
“Roxhythe, you must discover my sister’s attitude in the 
matter.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


109 


“I believe that Madame is fair-minded, Sir.” 

“What mean you by that?” 

“That she will favour neither side. If it were possible 
she would strive for you. As it is she holds herself 
neutral. She is a wise intermediary, Sir.” 

“So it seems,” said Charles. “We shall see. In the 
meantime, Roxhythe, go you to Paris. I shall put this 
matter before Arlington. I fancy we shall have trouble 
with him.” 

“I thought he was your man, Sir?” 

“So he is. But his wife is Dutch—and of the House of 
Orange.” 

“True. Yet he will stand, I think, by you.” 

“We shall see,” repeated Charles. 


CHAPTER III 


Her Ladyship 

Thus began the negotiations between the Kings of France 
and England. They were necessarily slow, and they en¬ 
tailed many journeys for the favourite to and from Paris. 
Christopher noticed that the French visits were becoming 
more and more frequent and decided that the lady must be 
unusually attractive. He did not worry his head over it 
at all. 

Towards the end of the year came a lull in the pro¬ 
ceedings. A deadlock had been reached, and it almost 
seemed as though the alliance would not take place. Lord 
Arlington hesitated and demurred, irritating King Louis; 
and Madame, the fair intermediary, would give Roxhythe 
no definite answer as to the price that Louis would pay. 
Both parties were dissatisfied with one another, both de¬ 
manded what the other would not give. For a time 
Roxhythe ceased his visits to Paris and found amusement 
with a certain Lady Crewe, a bride, newly come to town. 
She was young, beautiful and rather unsophisticated. She 
was very much in love with her husband, but she was 
flattered by Roxhythe’s attentions. 

In October the deadlock had to some extent been passed. 
The journeys to Paris became more frequent again. Dur¬ 
ing one of them a little stir was created in fashionable 
London by the arrival of the Lady Frances Montgomery, 
daughter of the late Duke of Rochefort, and wife of Sir 
Jasper Montgomery, of the Diplomatic. She had returned 
from Spain, where she had been for the last three years. 
She was cousin to my Lord Roxhythe, and before she had 
married Montgomery there had been much talk of an 
alliance between her and my lord. Her father had 
wished it, but evidently she and Roxhythe had not, for 
London had been denied the thrill of seeing my lord caught 

110 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


111 


at last. The Duke had not looked favourably on Mont¬ 
gomery. His daughter might have married the bluest blood 
in France or England had she liked. She had been bred 
in the French Court; she had beauty, wit and that mysteri¬ 
ous something known as charm. She had had many suitors, 
but not one had she accepted. She preferred to remain 
single, and, as the Duke could refuse her nothing, single 
she did remain. When she came to the Restoration Court 
she made a huge success. Charles himself paid her extrava¬ 
gant compliments; the men fell at her feet. Rumour said 
that she was as astute as Madame, Duchesse d’Orleans, 
and had more than once had a finger in various intrigues. 
Then she met Sir Jasper and electrified Society by decid¬ 
ing to marry him. As usual she had her way. There was 
a magnificent wedding, and she went away with honest 
but dull Montgomery and was seen no more. 

Now she had returned because her husband had been 
ordered home. As soon as the news became general every 
scrap of gossip concerning her was retailed. A great many 
people wondered whether she had wearied of Montgomery 
and whether she would amuse herself with her cousin. 

It was said of her that she was the one woman with whom 
Roxhythe had not trifled. They had never been anything 
dearer than very good friends. 

When she had been in London for about a week she 
gave a reception to which all London flocked. She had 
not asked Roxhythe to come because she believed him to 
be in Paris, so she was considerably surprised when, mid¬ 
way through the evening, two gentleman were announced, 
one of whom was the Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe, 
and the other Mr. Dart. 

Roxhythe was magnificent in purple and gold. Diamonds 
scintillated from his breast where his several orders hung, 
and from his long, thin fingers. He made his entry 
superbly and swept a glance round the room. 

Lady Frances was standing with the young Duchess of 
Monmouth. He saw her at once, recognising her slim, 
graceful figure. She was talking animatedly, with many 
tiny gestures of the hand learnt at the French Court, and 


112 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

many lightning smiles that showed pearly teeth behind 
her red lips. 

Christopher watched her, conscious of her fascination. 
He could not take his eyes off her face. It was not so 
much her beauty which attracted him, but her great 
vivacity. Her brown eyes flashed as she talked; dimples 
quivered on her cheeks. Around her was gathered quite 
a little court, hanging on her lips, waiting for a look or a 
smile. 

Roxhythe glanced at his secretary amusedly. 

“She is quite charming, is she not?” he asked. 

Christopher drew in his breath. 

“Is—that Lady Frances?” he said. 

“That is Lady Frances. A sad minx.” He laughed softly 
at Christopher’s indignant face. 

Frances had seen them. She came across the room, 
hands outstretched. 

“My very dear David! What an honour!” 

Roxhythe kissed her hand. 

“You did not invite me,” he said. “But I came.” 

“Of course I am delighted! I thought you away, else 
I should assuredly have asked you to come.” 

“So I thought,” nodded his lordship, pensively. “May 
I present Mr. Dart? Chris, Lady Frances Montgomery.” 

My lady flashed her bright eyes at Christopher. She 
seemed to search his face for the fraction of a second. 
Then she smiled. Her smile was wonderful. Christopher 
fell in love with her on the spot. 

“I must introduce you to someone very nice,” she 
decided. “Come with me! David, I want to talk to you, 
so you must not run to Lady Crewe’s side yet.” She bore 
Christopher off to the other end of the room. When 
she came back she found Roxhythe talking to Lord 
Buckhurst and one or two others. 

“No,” she said, emphatically. “You may none of you 
come with us. I’ve not seen Roxhythe for three years, 
and I’ve much to tell him. Charles, if you love me as 
much as you swear you do, you'll entertain Miss Douglas 
for me.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


113 


Buckhurst grimaced. 

“That’s a poor substitute for you, Fanny!” 

“Dear Charles, Arabella disapproves of you very 
thoroughly! ’Twill amuse you.” 

Buckhurst looked gloomy. 

“It may. Thy will be done, Fanny!” He walked off. 

Lady Frances and Roxhythe withdrew to a small room, 
adjoining the ball-room. Once there, Roxhythe took his 
cousin in his arms, and kissed her. Lady Frances made 
no demur. On the contrary, she returned the kiss, and 
settled herself on a blue and gold couch. 

“David, do you know that it is very refreshing to see 
you again?” Her humorous eyes challenged him. 

Roxhythe sat down beside her. 

“It must be.” He looked at her quizzically. “The 
compliment withheld.” 

“You always were provoking,” she retorted. “But are 
you not glad to see me?” 

“Superlatively. You never expect me to make love to 
you. 

“Of course I am flattered,” she said. 

His lordship was regarding her appraisingly. 

“I was afraid the climate might spoil you,” he pro¬ 
nounced at length. “Thank heaven, you are as beautiful 
as ever!” 

She tilted her head on one side. 

“I thought I was more beautiful than ever!” she 
said. 

“My dear, Jasper is not the judge of beauty that I am. 
If he told you that, he lied. It were impossible for 
you to be more beautiful. Riper, perhaps.” 

“I do not like the word,” she answered, gravely. “Next 
I shall be over-ripe.” 

“And after that, decay,” nodded my lord. 

“How ungallant of you!” cried Lady Frances, letting 
fall her fan. Then she laughed. “In truth, we are getting 
old, Roxhythe.” 

“We are,” he agreed. “Foiled again, Fanny. Is it 
London for you now?” 


114 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I think so. Unless Jasper is sent abroad again, which 
is unlikely. Who is the charming boy?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Roxhythe. ‘‘Have you found 

O 59 

one: 

“David, you must really not try to impress me with your 
affectations! I mean the boy you brought here to-night.” 

“Oh, Christopher! Yes, he is rather likeable, isn’t he?” 

“Who is he?” insisted Frances. 

“He is my secretary. One of the Darts of Suffolk.” 

“Your secretary? How came he to be that?” 

“I really don’t remember. I seem to have had him some 
time.” 

“He was not with you when I left England.” 

“No. I think it must have been shortly after you left. 
My last was a fool. And so untrustworthy.” 

“Aha? You wanted a discreet man for some intrigue, 
I suppose?” 

Roxhythe looked at her in hurt wonderment. 

“My dear Fanny, have you ever known me require 
assistance in an affaire?” 

“I meant a political intrigue.” 

“Oh, lud!” said Roxhythe, and was shaken with laughter. 
“Yes, Fan, that is it. At my time of life I am turned 
plotter. It is very sad.” 

She looked at him steadily for a moment. 

“I wish you would not think me a fool, Roxhythe. How 
is your beloved King?” 

“The same as ever. He will be pleased to see you.” 

“I think he will. I am going to Whitehall with Jasper 
on Thursday. You will be there?” 

“Since you are going, yes. The compliment granted.” 

“You know, I am very glad I did not marry you,” she 
told him. 

“So am I,” said my lord. “We should have quarrelled. 
Tis ever the way when both have wit. I suppose you 
never quarrel with Jasper?” 

“Insufferable man! I shall go.” She rose, and held 
out her hand. “Come, David! l^ou must make yourself 
very agreeable to everyone.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


115 


“Why, I rather thought of leaving!” he protested. “I 
only came to see you.” 

“Then you will offend me very grievously. Come!” 

He suffered himself to be drawn to his feet. 

“If you give way to idle passions you will have lost 
your chief attraction,” he sighed. “If I succeed in offend¬ 
ing you I shall lose all interest.” 

“What a terrible fate were mine, then!” she mocked. 
“Oh, here is Jasper come to seek me! Jasper, Roxhythe 
is worse than ever!” 

Montgomery grasped my lord’s hand. 

“I am overwhelmed to see you,” he smiled. “But I 
cannot have my wife monopolized.” 

“You have it wrong,” retaliated Frances. “I monopo¬ 
lized him! He is the gr-reat Roxhythe! Oh fie!” she blew 
him a kiss and rustled away. 

“She is remarkably fascinating,” reflected my lord. “But 
no doubt I should have wearied of her.” 

On the way home Christopher informed Roxhythe that 
Lady Frances had asked him to wait on her. He also 
informed Roxhythe that she was the sweetest, loveliest 
lady he had ever met. 

My lord settled himself more comfortably in his corner 
of the coach. 

“Minx,” he murmured. “So she has you in her toils? I 
had almost come to think you immune.” 

“I greatly admire and respect her ladyship,” said Chris¬ 
topher with dignity. 

My lord closed his eyes. 

“Yes, that is always the way. Odso, I can scarce 
remember my calf-love! No doubt she was years older 

than I.” 

“You are most provoking to-night,” said Christopher 
huffily. 

“So she said,” agreed his lordship. 


CHAPTER IV 


Her Ladyship’s, Perplexity 

“That nice child has been here to-day,” remarked Lady 
Frances, suddenly. “I am at a loss.” 

Her husband looked up, smiling. 

“A novel experience for you, my dear. What child?” 

“Christopher Dart. David’s secretary.” 

“Oh? Why are you at a loss?” 

Lady Frances frowned uncertainly. 

“I cannot understand how he should be in Roxhythe’s 
service.” 

Montgomery laid down his quill. 

“Proceed!” 

“Now, do not laugh!” begged her ladyship. “I am in 
earnest.” 

“Did I laugh?” 

“You looked as though you might. That boy is honest.” 

“Yes?” 

“I wish you were more intelligent,” sighed her ladyship. 
“Though Roxhythe assures me we should quarrel an you 
were.” 

“I did not know I had been the subject of your 
conversation that evening last month.” 

“Oh, you were not! Please don’t sound so offended! 
We congratulated ourselves that we had not married one 
another. It was very quaint.” 

“Highly diverting,” agreed Montgomery, drily. 

“Indeed, it was! And we nearly did, you know. But 
never mind that; it’s not what I wanted to tell you. It 
is about Christopher. He has been with Roxhythe for 
nearly two years, and he worships him!” 

“Well?” asked her husband. “What of it?” 

“That is not all. He—he respects him! And he is such 
an upright boy! So very honourable!” 

“You seem to have observed him closely.” 

116 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


117 


Pho! said Lady Frances. “He is as transparent as 
air! He knows naught of plots and plotters. He is a very 
babe in affairs, and is seemingly blind to what goes on 
around him. And he is with Roxhythe!” 

I cannot see why you marvel at it, Fanny. Roxhythe 
is no plotter.” 

Lady Frances leant both elbows on the table. She 
rested her chin in her hands, and looked steadily across 
at her husband. 

“Do you really think that, Jasper?” 

“Of course I think it!” he answered, surprised. 
“Roxhythe a plotter? My dear, you have some maggot 
in your head! The man has no *mind for aught save 
clothes, and women, and witticisms!” 

. “You think he is a fool?” 

“A typical courtier,” he amended. 

A curious smile curved her ladyship’s mouth. 

“Do you think the King-a fool?” 

Montgomery fingered his quill. 

“No. Alas!” 

“What use then do you suppose h£ has for fools?” 

“None. Save when h£ uses them as -dupes.” 

“Would he keep a fool ever at his side,* think you?” 

Montgomery perceived whither this led. 

“Roxhythe amuses him.” 

“So have other men. Yet they have faded away. 
Roxhythe remains.” 

“He is a man of some parts, of course,” admitted 
Montgomery. 

“More than that. He is as clever as sin.” 

“Oh, my dear Fanny, you over-rate him!” 

“I do not. I would wager my reputation that David’s 
inanities are but a mask.” • 

“Your woman’s imagination runs away with you, my 
dear. If he were the clever man you say he is, why should 
he wish to hide his qualities?” 

“So he might serve the King better.” 

Montgomery twisted one of the curls of his periwig 
round his finger. 


118 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Oh. Then you infer . . . ?” 

Lady Frances dropped her eyelids. 

“Nothing,” she said smoothly. “I only know that I 
would not trust Roxhythe.” 

“Trust him! No, nor I. But not because I think him 
clever.” 

“Roxhythe acts a part,” said Frances slowly. “Of that 
1 am assured. In his position a man sees many things 
about Whitehall. Yet he is ever ignorant. He is always 
indifferent, cynical; he knows nothing. If one speaks of 
intrigue, he fences, and is flippant. He would have the 
world believe him the idle court-gallant you think him. 
The world does believe it. But not Lady Frances!” 

“Lady Frances is very deep,” said Montgomery, sar¬ 
castically. 

“Lady Frances knows Whitehall and its ways!” she 
flashed back at him. “I have lived all my life in courts! 
I know what use have Kings for fools. Why, Jasper, 
jasper, where are your wits? Do you forget that 
Roxhythe has never been away from Charles his side 
since they fled the country? Charles had no room for 
any but the most astute during those years. It was plot, 
plot, plot, all the time!” 

“Through Roxhythe?” 

“Roxhythe and others. But certainly Roxhythe.” 

Montgomery sat silent for a while. 

“I have a great respect for your wisdom, my dear, as 
you know. Yet I think in this you are wrong. If Charles 
had need of plotters, he had also need of men to divert 
him. Such is Roxhvthe.” 

j 

Lady Frances shut her lips firmly. After a moment 
she spoke again, 

“One day you’ll know I was right, Jasper. And you 
will marvel, even as I do, that Christopher Dart was 
ever in his service.” 

“Mayhap,” shrugged Montgomery. He went on 
writing. 

Lady Frances left the room. She went up to her own 
boudoir, and, from her escritoire, took a letter from her 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


119 


very dear friend, Aimee de St. Morny, Lady-in-waiting to 
Madame, Duchesse d’Orleans. 

44 . . .1 was Interested Yesterday, my dear Fanny, 
to Meet a Kinsman of Yrs. I mean le Marquis de 
Roxhythe, who is perhaps epris de Madame , who is 
sans doute eprise de lui. He is ever in Attendance on 
her, and Shows himself tres beau cavalier ...” 

44 0h!” said my lady. 44 0h! . . . Well, it may be so. 
It is even probable. And yet ... I think I shall watch 
my good Roxhythe.” She nodded briskly and locked the 
letter away in her desk. 


CHAPTER V 


Lady Crewe 

It was some weeks later that Christopher met an old 
friend, whom he had not seen for some years. He saw 
him in the Strand one morning, coming out of one of the 
houses. He caught his arm. 

“Sydney Harcourt!” 

Harcourt stared for a moment in perplexity. Then his 
face cleared, and he grasped Christopher’s hand. 

“Chris!” 

Christopher linked his arm in his. Together they 
strolled down the Strand. 

“I had not thought to meet you to-day, Sydney!” 

“Nor I you. ’Oons, lad, but you’ve changed!” He 
laughed. “You are a man now!” 

“I have need to be!” 

“Yes? Roderick is still abroad?” 

“With the Prince of Orange,” nodded Christopher. “I 
have not seen him for two years. I was at the Hague in 
’68, and I found him greatly changed.” 

“Is that so? He was a very bright youth when I knew 
him!” 

“He’s like a psalm-singing Puritan now,” said Chris¬ 
topher gloomily. “But tell me of yourself, Sydney! 
What do you do?” 

“I am with Russell as his confidential secretary,” replied 
Harcourt. “And you?” 

“I have much the same post, I fancy,” smiled 
Christopher. “I am Lord Roxhythe his secretary.” He 
said it with pride, and was gratified by Harcourt’s start 
of surprise. 

“With Roxhythe? You, Chris?” 

Christopher nodded. 

“I have been with him for nearly two years. Roderick 
• is very angry with me because of it.” 

120 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


121 


Harcourt compressed his lips quickly. 

“I confess, I, too, am—surprised. You are with a 

strange man, Chris.” 

“I am with a very great man,” retaliated Christopher. 
“If you think to warn me ’gainst my lord, let me tell you 
that I take such warnings very ill.” 

The shrewd grey eyes looked into his. 

“Oh?” said Harcourt. “I am to congratulate you, 
then?” 

“If you like,” answered Christopher. 

“Then of course I do. Why should I seek to warn you?” 

“Heaven knows! Most people have tried to.” 

“I shall not, I assure you. You should count yourself 
fortunate to be with perhaps one of the most influential men 
of the day.” 

Christopher was pleased. After that they spoke no more 
of Roxhythe. He refused an invitation to dine that night, 
pleading that he was going to Lady Crewe’s masquerade, 
but he accepted for Friday. Then they parted. 

When Christopher returned to Bevan House he found that 
Roxhythe had returned unexpectedly from Paris. Over¬ 
joyed he hurried into the library where my lord was 
seated. 

“How very delightful, sir! I did not expect you for 
another week!” He kissed Roxhythe’s hand. 

My lord smiled at him. 

“Are you really so pleased to see me, Chris?” 

“Why, of course I am!” said Christopher, surprised. 
“How can you ask?” 

“So few people are. The King, Fanny, and you. It is 
quite refreshing. Is everything well with you?” 

“Yes, very well. Oh, I had well-nigh forgotten! Lady 
Crewe came here on Wednesday. She—was very annoyed.” 

“What an imprudent child she is!” said Roxhythe. 
“What ailed her?” 

“It seems you did not go to her ball last week.” 

“Did I not? No, I remember now.” 

“She said you had promised to be present. I found it 
quite impossible to placate her. I explained that you were 


122 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

in Paris, but she was the more angry. She left a letter 
for you.” 

Christopher chuckled a little, hunting through the desk 
for it. Roxhvthe watched him, a twinkle in his eye. When 
the note was handed him he unfolded it leisurely and 
started to read. 

“A woman’s letter,” he remarked at the end, “is at all 
times a thing to marvel at. An angry woman’s letter is 
a thing to ignore. Remember that, Chris!” He tossed the 
note into the fire. “Have I an engagement for to-night?” 

“Yes,” said Christopher, still chuckling. “You have. 
It is the night of Lady Crewe’s masquerade.” 

Roxhythe’s lips twitched. 

“It will be amusing,” he said. “We will go to it.” 

It was not until they were seated in the coach that eve¬ 
ning on the way to the Crewes’ that Christopher remem¬ 
bered his morning’s encounter with Harcourt. He told 
Roxhythe about it. He always told him everything. 

My lord was mildly interested. 

“Harcourt? Harcourt? Surely I have . . .? Whose 
secretary did you say he was?” 

“Lord Russell’s, sir.” 

“One of the leaders of our respected Country Party. 
I believe I must have met Harcourt at his house. Is he tall 
with aquiline features?” 

“Yes; and grey eyes.” 

“I have met him, then. I fancy he is one of those who 
disapprove of my existence.” 

“Oh no, sir! He complimented me on being in the 
service of one of the most influential men of the day.” 

Roxhythe lost a little of his sleepiness. 

“Did he so? And he one of the Country Party. Ah, 
well!” He closed his eyes. 

Christopher roused him presently. 

“We are nearly come to the Crewes’, sir. Had you not 
better don your mask?” 

“I think I left it behind,” said RoxhytLe placidly. 

Christopher handed him the strip of velvet. 

I thought you would. So I brought an extra one.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


123 


“You are invaluable,” sighed Roxhythe. 

The ballroom at Stoke House was very crowded. 
As Roxhythe entered, Lady Crewe detached herself from 
a group of guests and came towards him, rustling 
silks. 

Roxhythe stopped. Lady Crewe stood directly before 
him, swathed in a pearl grey domino, her red lips in a 
straight line. 

“So, my Lord Roxhythe! You deign to visit me?” 

Roxhythe looked down at the golden curls. One hand 
clutched my lady’s domino to her breast. The delicate 
nostrils were quivering. 

“I am indeed honoured,” went on that trembling voice. 
The lady’s control broke down. “Oh, how dared you slight 
me so? How dared you?” 

“I?” said Roxhythe. “Sweetest Millicent!” 

“You are free with my name, Lord Roxhythe!” 

“It is such a pretty name,” pleaded my lord. 

“Don’t try to coax me! Why came you not to my party? 
Why did you ignore my letter?” 

“Dear child, I was in Paris at the time of your party? 
Believe me, I was desolated.” 

She gave a short, angry laugh. 

“Oh yes, my lord! I make no doubt you were! We 
have heard of your escapades in Paris! Desolated, for¬ 
sooth!” 

“My dearest, most beautiful one, suppose we move away 
from this very public spot, and discuss the matter calmly? 
I will show you that I was indeed desolated.” My lord 
offered his arm. 

For an instant Lady Crewe hesitated. Then she looked 
up into Roxhythe’s face and saw his smile. 

“Very well, sir.” She allowed him to conduct her to an 
alcove, slightly apart from the rest of the room. 

“Now what is the matter?” softly asked my lord. “Is it 
possible that you are offended with me because I could not 
come to your party?” 

“You made no effort to come! And then you ignored 
my letter!” 


124 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“My dear, it is never wise to address abusive impor¬ 
tunities to me.” 

The beautiful mouth drooped. My lady turned away, 
fumbling with her fan. A tiny sob reached Roxhythe. 

“Tell me,” he said. “Have I sinned beyond for¬ 
giveness?” 

“You are cruel! cruel!” 

“Am I so? I think ’tis you who are the tormentor. 
Millicent . . .? Dear one . . .?” 

She did not reply. He drew her close to him, so that her 
head was almost resting on his shoulder. 

“Most Beautiful?” 

His nearness intoxicated her. She clung to his fingers. 

“You don’t care for . . . me! You . . . only pre¬ 
tend . . . because it amuses you! You are quite, quite 
cold!” 

She could feel his arm about her waist, his breath on 
her hair. Above all, she was conscious of his strange, 
relentless fascination that not all his neglect could destroy. 

“Should I have braved your anger to-night had I not 
cared?” 

“To . . . tease me. Oh, you make me so unhappy!” 

“I could make you happy, Millicent, if you would grant 
me your sweet forgiveness. Come! Am I too vile?” 

She twisted one of the ribands of his domino about her 
linger. His strong, white hand took hers, and pressed it 
to his lips. 

“I cannot help forgiving you,” she whispered. “You— 
you—must not hold me so—here!” 

“And I must not kiss you?” Roxhythe bent over her 
head. 

“No—oh no!” She felt his lips on her hair and broke 
free. “If any should see us! You must let me go! If 
my husband were looking!” She slipped back into the 
ballroom. 

Roxhythe followed slowly. For a while he stood talking 
to Lord Finchhelm, but presently he again sought out Lady 
Crewe. 

“My sweet life, I want to talk to you.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


125 


Her depression had fled. She smiled naughtily. 

“Do you, sir? Why?” 

Can you ask? I’ve not seen you for nigh on a month!” 

She tilted her head. 

“What do you want to say to me?” 

Roxhythe took her hand. 

“I want to tell you how lovely you are.” 

She was a child, playing with a forbidden toy. 

“I do not think I want to hear it.” 

“Then I’ll tell you how much I love you.” 

“And that I must not hear!” 

“You shall feel it, sweetheart.” 

“You are very wicked, you know,” she said, gravely. 

“You would not like me else, dear.” 

“Should I not? Do you think women are like that?” 

“’Women, child, are the most incomprehensible, mad, 
divine creatures on this earth. Come with me, and I’ll tell 
you how wonderful one woman is.” 

“I ought not to. And it is only a game.” 

“Nothing is so alluring as the ‘ought not,’ beloved.” 

“No. But should one give way to temptation?” 

“Most certainly one should, for if one does not, it leaves 
the devil idle.” 

“Surely he were best idle?” 

“Not at all. If he is idle, he rests for a while, devising 
fresh temptations which are more seductive than the last.” 

“You are dreadfully wicked!” nodded Millicent. She 
went out with him. 

Two days later Roxhythe left for Paris, to carry on the 
negotiations between the King of England and an enemy 
country. Millicent, jealous of an unknown rival, shed 
bitter tears. 


CHAPTER VI 


The Price 

Before Roxhythe went again to Paris he craved and was 
granted an interview with the King. The Duke of York was 
present, and from his uneasy bearing and his black looks, 
Roxhythe guessed that he was assailed by one of the qualm¬ 
ish fits to which he had of late become subject. He sat by 
the fireplace, staring moodily into the flames. He barely 
acknowledged my lord’s bow. 

The King welcomed his favourite cheerily. 

“Well, my David? Ye have fresh news for me?” 

Roxhythe kissed his hand. 

“I have, Sir. I wished to acquaint you with it before I 
returned to France, so I begged this audience.” 

Charles nodded. 

“Do matters progress at last?” 

“Very fairly, Sir. Yet I think you must not hope for a 
conclusion this year.” 

“Mort de ma vie! How much longer am I to wait? It 
is December now and we have been negotiating for over a 
year! 

“If you would give way to Louis’ demands you might 
conclude the affair at once.” 

“Til not give way! Surely you do not advise that?” 

“By no means, Sir. I counsel you to wait. I think 
that it will end in the spring if not before.” 

“I suppose I must be patient then. But have you dis¬ 
covered the price?” 

Roxhythe watched the Duke move angrily and scowl. 

“Madame is ever vague. Evidently Louis is wishful of 
seeing how much he need offer.” 

“Ay, he’s close-fisted. What says my sister?” 

“She’s hinted at sixty thousand pounds yearly, Sir.” 

126 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


127 


“And you?” 

“I? Oh, I waved it aside, Sir! I told her that if the 
King of England was to be bought his price was high.” 

James flushed and stirred again. The King laughed. 

“Incomparable Roxhythe! What said she to that?” 

“Why she affected finality, Sir. Louis hopes that you 
will give way.” 

Charles played with one of his thick curls. He was 
frowning slightly. 

“Roxhythe, you walk round and round the point. How 
much can I with safety demand?” 

My lord studied his polished finger-nails. For a moment 
he did not speak; the King’s frown was reflected on his 
face. 

“In all, Sir, two hundred thousand,” he said at last. He 
spoke with deliberation. 

The Duke straightened in his chair. 

“It is ridiculous!” he rasped. “Two hundred thousand! 
You must be mad, my lord!” 

Roxhythe said nothing. Charles who had been fondling 
one of his dogs put it down. He was all attention. 

“You think that, Davy?” 

“I know it, Sir.” 

“How?” 

Roxhythe twisted one of his rings round. 

“Madame hath a great regard for you, Sir. She does 
not wholly play into King Louis’ hands. She remembers 
that if she is Louis his sister-in-law, she is also your sister.” 

“Oh. You said once, Roxhythe, that if it were possible 
she would play into my hands rather than Louis’.” 

“I said also, Sir, that she was a very wise intermediary. 
I still say so. It is impossible for her to take your part 
openly, but she can still help.” 

“She told you that Louis would go to that figure?” 

“N-no. Madame would not be so incautious. She is a 
very Queen of intriguers. Rather—she gave me that im¬ 
pression.” 

“You are quick to take impressions, Lord Roxhythe!” 
sneered the Duke. 


128 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Charles ignored him. 

“You are sure of this, David?” 

My lord shrugged. 

“I am never sure, Sir.” 

This seemed to satisfy the King. He sat with his chin in 
his hand, thinking. 

“Louis would never pay me such a sum without a 
struggle,” he mused. “If I stand too firm, I may lose 
all . . 

“No,” said Roxhythe. 

“-Yet, as you so wisely remarked, if I am to be 

bought, my price is high.” 

“My Lord Roxhythe speaks airily!” snapped James. 
“He cannot be certain of such facts. Louis will never go 
to that figure. Is it likely?” 

Roxhythe’s calm eyes surveyed him. 

“It is more than likely, sir.” 

“It means a struggle, eh?” asked Charles. 

“The thing is not worth having if you have not to fight 
for it, Sir.” 

“A King does not haggle!” retorted James. 

“I repeat, Sir, if you are to be bought it had best be for 
a fair price. If Louis wants an alliance with England, he 
must pay dearly for it.” 

“Roxhythe is right,” agreed the King. “I believe in 
sucking the French King of all he can give.” 

James brought his fist down on the table with some force. 

“The whole business is degrading and un-Kinglike! I 
mislike secret negotiations. We show ourselves afraid of 
the Government by trafficking with France behind its back. 
Why not do the thing openly and Royally?” 

“Why not leave the country at once?” shrugged Charles. 

“Sir, you are over-timorous! The army is behind you. 
You have naught to fear.” 

“No? Jamie, I had thought you wiser. Would you have 
more bloodshed in England? Would you put both our 
heads in danger?” 

“I would have straight dealings, and the Faith at all 
costs.” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


129 


“You would not get it by foolhardiness. You would 
only ruin my popularity; jeopardize my crown.” 

“Anything were better than this hole-and-corner treaty!” 

Charles grimaced. 

“Even exile? No, no Jamie! This is an easier way.” 

“An underhand way! A timorous way!” 

“Let us be honest, my dear. We are afraid of the 
Government, alack! It is too powerful. Therefore it must 
be tricked and turned against itself. So shall I gain power.” 

“You’ll lose your popularity when the treaty is dis¬ 
covered,” returned the Duke. 

A little chuckle escaped the King. 

“Shall I, Davy?” 

“With some factions,” answered Roxhythe, gravely. 

“Only for the moment.” 

“That depends, Sir, on how far you play into Louis’ 
hands.” 

The Duke rose and went over to the window. For some 
moments he stood staring out into the gardens. Then he 
turned, and came back to the table. 

“Louis will require you to play very deeply into his 
hands, Sir,” he said. 

“He may require it, but I do not think I shall do it,” 
smiled Charles. 

“You will have to,” said James, tersely. “Oh, there are 
many points against this alliance!” He paced up and down 
the floor, his hands linked behind his back. Suddenly he 
stopped, and faced the King. “Sir, I implore you, have 
the matter put before the Cabinet! Enforce your will upon 
them, but make an honourable and a safe treaty! No one 
wants the alliance more than do I, but I do not want to 
play the part of catspaw to Louis, as we must if we make 
these secret terms. We show Louis that we stand in fear of 
Parliament. Oh, ’tis madness, Sir! I have thought well 
on it, and I know ’tis madness.” 

Charles laid his hand on his brother’s arm. 

“James, you are wrong. Can you not see that it is not I 
who will play the part of catspaw?” 

James stared. 


130 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Who then?” 

The most curious of smiles flitted across the King’s face. 

“Louis, my friend.” 

James shook off his hand. 

“The suspense has turned your brain! You must indeed 
be mad if you think that!” 

“I do not think, James. I know.” 

“Pah! If you sign this secret treaty they concoct, Louis 
holds you in the hollow of his hand! An you fail to 
fulfil your part, he will denounce you to the Government! 
And he’ll fail to pay you your wage!” 

“Expose me? Do you really think that?” 

“Assuredly!” 

“My good brother, he dare not. He would lose all 
hope of gaining England, if he did. The nation would be 
hot for war with France. I tell you, James, Louis is the one 
power I do not fear. Be reasonable! Leave this matter to 
me! You were not fashioned for the intriguer’s part.” 

“I thank God, no!” cried James. “I see you will go 
your own wilful way, but I pray you will not drown us all 
in a sea of disaster!” 

“You are so inconsistent,” sighed Charles. “A moment 
back ’twas you who were the fearnaught. Now you are as 
timorous as I never was. Do you so love the Government?” 

“No, by heaven!” 

“Then why hesitate to trick them as they would not 
hesitate to trick you? Has the Government treated us so 
well that we need consider it?” He snapped his fingers. 
“Bah! So much for the Government!” 

“ ’Tis not that I cavil at . . .” 

“You fear that I shall in my turn be duped by Louis. 
I shall not. You fear a French yoke. You shall not be 
called upon to bear one.” 

“I fear you will sell England to France!” said James, 
impetuously. 

“I shall never do that, rest assured. Charles Stuart is 
no man’s chattel. If I accept Louis his offer ’tis for the 
furtherance of mine own ends. I enter into this bond with 
open eyes.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


131 


“If I could believe that . . .!” 

“You can believe it.” 

“And that is your last word? You’ll not lay the matter 
before the Cabinet?” 

For the first time Charles showed exasperation. 

“James, in the face of the Triple Bond, how can I?” 

James shook his head wearily. 

“I know not. Ye seem able to do most things.” He 
paused. “Well, there’s naught to be gained by argument. 
I’ll leave you.” 

“You stand by me in this matter, Jamie?” 

“I must.” James spoke over his shoulder. The next 
moment he was gone. 

“I was never so at one with His Grace,” remarked 
Roxhythe. 


CHAPTER VII 


The First Seed of Doubt 

On Friday, two days after Roxhythe’s departure for 
France, Christopher set out to visit his friend Harcourt at 
his house in Great Queen Street. 

He was pleased to renew the acquaintance, but he could 
not help feeling that he and Harcourt would now have very 
little in common. The Country Party was always steadily 
opposed to the Court Party, and most of its members held 
the Court and all its ways in abhorrence. Once Christopher 
had held their views himself but since he had been with 
Roxhythe he had changed his opinions. His father had 
always pulled a long face when King Charles was men¬ 
tioned. He had solemnly warned his sons to have naught 
to do with the vicious Court and the dissolute King. Chris¬ 
topher had never taken him very seriously; he had abun¬ 
dant trust in Charles’ integrity. He thought it impossible 
that a King should be worthy of suspicion; he laughed at 
his father’s gloomy prognostications. Mr. Dart had proph¬ 
esied that the King would make a sorry substitute for the 
Protector. He said over and over again that no Stuart 
could run straight: they must always choose the crooked 
path. He warned his sons to trust neither in the King nor 
in any of those around him. Christopher saw now how 
wrong he had been; life with Roxhythe had taught him 
that. He hoped that Harcourt would not inveigh against the 
Court, for he felt that he could not discuss the matter 
calmly. Since he had been at Bevan House he had become 
acquainted with so many courtiers and liked most of them 
so much, that he could not bear to hear ill spoken of them 
by the Country Party whose members he had come to con¬ 
sider very worthy but very dull. He hoped, too, that 
Harcourt would not advise him to quit Roxhythe. From 
his manner the other day he thought that he would not, but 

132 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


133 


since he had received so many sinister warnings he was ever 
on his guard. 

So he arrived at Great Queen Street. He was introduced 
to Madam Harcourt. She came of an old Puritan stock, 
and she was very properly grieved at the company that 
Christopher kept. Several times he caught her eyeing him 
with a species of sad gravity that annoyed him beyond 
words. He was thankful when dinner came to an end, and 
the lady left her husband and his guest to their wine. 

Harcourt pushed the decanter towards him. 

“Fill up your glass, Chris, and tell me all that you have 
been doing since I saw you!” 

Christopher obeyed the first behest. 

“I don’t think I have done anything,” he said. “My life 
is quite uneventful. You will have more to tell me.” 

“Oh, I . . .! No, I do my work, and for the rest 
there’s naught. Come! Tell me about yourself!” 

Christopher laughed. 

“I do my work, and go out a little, and for the rest-” 

“There’s something! Were you in Roxhythe’s service 
when you went to Holland? Or was that before you joined 
him?” 

Christopher tilted his glass so that the red wine caught 
the light, and sparkled. 

“I was in his service,” he answered. 

“Strange! I had thought my lord would not have been 
absent from Whitehall for so long.” 

“If you cast your mind back,” said Christopher, slowly, 
“you will remember that there was a slight difference— 
between His Majesty and my master. Roxhythe found it 
expedient to go abroad for a while.” 

“I do remember something of the sort,” frowned 
Harcourt. “I remember London was a-hum with the news.” 

“Yes?” said Christopher. “Well, that was why he went 
away.” 

“To Holland . . . Lord Roxhythe usually goes to 
Paris!” said Harcourt, smiling. 

“He has many friends in Holland whom he wished to 
visit,” replied Christopher. 



134 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Harcourt drew him on to the subject of the Prince of 
Orange. He wanted to know if Christopher had ever seen 
him. In fact, there was much that he wanted to know. He 
insisted that Christopher should tell him of his life with 
Roxhythe. At the end of the recital he regarded 
Christopher rather strangely for a moment. Then he 
smiled. 

“It seems you are very fortunate,” he said. “I’d give 
much to be in your shoes!” 

Christopher felt that this was not true. 

“You would find my master a change from Lord 
Russell!” he said. “I do not think you would like my life.” 

“Perhaps not. By the way, I saw Lord Roxhythe at the 
play the other night. What a comely man he is!” 

Christopher warmed. 

“He is very handsome,” he agreed. “And he is more 
than that. He is very great.” 

“Indeed, yes. He has much power.” 

“I did not mean power. I mean he has a great nature.” 

Harcourt pushed his chair back from the table, so that 
his face was slightly in the shadow. 

“Ah? I had not thought he had much depth of char¬ 
acter, I confess ...” 

“You don’t know him!” said Christopher quickly. “He 
is brave and upright, and clev-” He stopped. 

“Clever?” ended Harcourt, smoothly. “He does not 
show it.” 

Christopher recovered himself. 

“Well—no!” he laughed. “Perhaps he is not clever! I 
am carried away by my love for him. No, he is brave and 
honourable. I have never known him perform a mean act. 
But I do not think he is clever.” 

“He hath a very lively wit, if all I hear be true.” 

“A ready tongue,” said Christopher. “He is very 
indolent.” 

“Yes.” Harcourt peeled a nut abstractedly. “I suppose 
it is for that reason that he doth not meddle in intrigue.” 

“He has no taste for plotting,” replied Christopher, in 
all good faith. “Indeed he laughs at intrigue.” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


135 


“Very wise,” said Harcourt, still busy with his nut. 
“And what does he to-night?” 

“I do not know,” answered Christopher. “He is away 
from home.” 

The shrewd eyes looked up for a moment and fell once 
more. 

“Again?” asked Harcourt. “I fear your master is of a 
very gay disposition, Chris! Paris, I suppose?” 

Christopher sipped his wine. 

“Yes, Paris. I believe he has met a very fair lady whom 
he adores for the moment. It is his way.” 

“Oh! In the household of Madame, eh? We hear 
tales of it even in this quiet house. Some say it is Madame 
herself.” 

“Maybe.” Christopher was not interested. He had had 
enough of the subject. Evidently Harcourt had not. 

“She must be very fascinating, whoe’er she be,” he 
remarked. “My lord has been to France so much during 
the past year. We thought it impossible that it should be 
for a woman and naught else. He must have business there, 
surely?” 

Christopher’s brows drew perceptively nearer. 

“No, he has not. It is nothing for my lord to go often to 
Paris! You take a great interest in his affairs!” 

Harcourt ate his nut. 

“Forgive my impertinence! I am interested in all that 
concerns you, Chris. Let us talk of something else!” 

Christopher went home, thinking hard. Unperceptive he 
might be, but he was wise enough to see that Harcourt had 
been more than casually curious about his affairs. He 
went over the evening in his mind. First the questions con¬ 
cerning the journey to Holland; then the questions 
concerning my lords French journeys. Christopher 
remembered that Lady Frances had talked to him on that 
subject. She had wanted to know what it was that drew 
my lord to Paris. Well, he had not known. He still did 
not know. He guessed that it was some woman for it 
was always that. He had not puzzled over the matter at 
all. It was not unusual for Roxhythe to journey to Paris; 


136 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


no one, save Lady Frances and Harcourt, had thought it 
unusual. Why should these two strive to draw explanations 
from him? What did they suspect? Why did they 
suspect? He resolved to speak to Roxhythe himself. If 
he had aught to confide, surely my lord would tell it to 
him? 

Christopher went into the library and lighted candles. 
He found an invitation from Lady Frances to wait on her 
one day. She chided him for what she termed his neglect. 
She believed he had tired of her already! 

It was a letter such as his mother might have written. 
Christopher folded it carefully and put it away. 

Next day he went to her house, and was admitted into 
my lady’s private parlour. It was a tastefully furnished 
room, hung in blue and gold to suit my lady’s colouring. 
It looked south on to the gardens. 

Frances came to him, wonderfully dressed and coiffed. 

“You wicked boy! To think I had to send for you!” 
She allowed him to kiss her hand. “Confess! You’ve no 
excuse?” 

“I did not like to plague you too often, Lady Frances!” 
stammered Christopher. 

“What nonsense!” She sat down. “Did you not know 
that I like young things about me?” 

“It is very kind of you,” said Christopher. “I love to 
come.” 

“That is very well,” nodded her ladyship. “But this 
time I want you for a purpose.” 

“If there is aught I may do-” 

“Well, there is, but don’t make a speech about it, dear 
boy. I am past the age of such vanities. Reserve them for 
your sweetheart.” 

“I have none!” 

“Then it is time you had! No matter; you are young 
yet. Best keep away from such things ...” She sighed. 
“These are sad times, Chris, and I’ve led a wicked life! 
So I know all about it! Unless you find a very nice girl, 
I shall not allow you a sweetheart!” 

“Indeed, I do not want one!” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


137 


“Ungrateful boy! But listen! I contemplate a 
masquerade down at Hatchley, when the warmer weather 
comes. Of course it must excel all others in brilliance.” 

“Of course it will if you are there!” answered Chris¬ 
topher. 

“Naturally I shall be there. You are not to make me 
pretty speeches! Well, as I say, it must be a very great 
success. For I intend to ask His Majesty to grace it with 
his presence.” 

“Will he?” asked Christopher, wide-eyed. 

“Why, yes! His Majesty has a fondness for me, even 
though I have mended my ways. He will come. Therefore, 
Chris, I must have Roxhythe. You see?” 

“Is he so needful to your party’s success?” smiled 
Christopher. 

“You know he is! No one would dream of entertaining 
Royalty if they could not be assured of Roxhythe’s 
presence. So I must be assured of it. There’s the difficulty. 
One cannot rely on David. One thinks one is safe until the 
last minute, when lo, and behold! there is no Roxhythe!” 

“He would never serve you so.” Christopher shook his 
head. “You have only to ask him.” 

“Indeed he would! He has done it before! Oh, la—la! 
what a state I was in! I vowed I would never forgive the 
wretch—no, nor receive him neither. And then he 
appeared one day to dinner, and I had not the heart to 
chide him.” She sighed. “ ’Tis always the same. You 
may be never so angry with him when he is absent, but 
the moment you see him—pouf! The anger is gone! But 
I deviate, I deviate. My husband tells me that I can never 
walk straight to my point. Is he not rude? Yes. Well, 
I must have Roxhythe. That is why I wanted to see you.” 

“How can I help you?” wondered Christopher. 

“Dull boy! For one thing you can see that he accepts no 
other invitation for that night. Oh yes, that has been 
known to happen, Chris. Roxhythe accepts all invitations 
haphazard, and finds that he has as many as six for the 
same night. So he throws them all away and goes to the 
one house to which he was not invited. Now don’t laugh! 


138 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


It’s very serious. Do you give me your word you will 
prevent this happening?” 

“I promise it shall not happen!” chuckled Christopher. 
“But what am I to do if your invitation comes not 
first?” 

“Oh, you must destroy the first in that case!” said her 
ladyship airily. “He will never remember. Not that he 
would care a fig for t an he did. The other thing that you 
must do, Chris, is to see that he does not go to Paris or what 
not on the day. You must make him come to me. C’est 
entendu ?” 

“I’ll try,” promised Christopher. “But one does not 
‘make’ my lord do anything.” 

“He’ll do what you ask, never fear! I really believe he 
hath some sort of an affection for you.” 

Christopher flushed. 

“Some sort . . .?” he interrogated. 

Lady Frances looked at him for a moment. Her bright 
eyes softened. 

“Chris, dear, don’t love Roxhythe too greatly,” she said. 
The laughter had gone from her voice. 

Christopher’s thoughts leapt back two years. He saw 
himself walking with de Staal in Rotterdam, and heard 
de Staal’s warning: 

“. . . You will love heem ver’ mooch one day, only— 
I warn you—do not love heem too mooch for he is 
Roxhyt’e, and he not care for anyone but heemself, and 
hees Prince ...” 

“Lady Frances, why do you say that?” he asked quickly. 
“Why should I not love my lord?” 

Lady Frances stared down at her rings. 

“I like you, Chris. I—don’t want you to—get hurt.” 

“. . . One day, per’aps, he hurt you ver’ mooch, eef 
you not take care. So I warn you ...” 

“Please tell me why you say that!” begged Christopher. 
“Why should he hurt me? What reason have you for 
misjudging him so?” 

“I can’t tell you, Chris. I do not know. But Roxhythe— 
is Roxhythe, and I think one day you will be disappointed. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


139 


You think him very great, very good; suppose it were not 
so? Suppose he were not so true?” 

“It is impossible! When have you found him untrue? 
What right have you to warn me against him?” 

She laid an impulsive hand on his arm. 

“None—none! Indeed it may be impossible! But—oh, 
he would never return your regard! He cares for no one 
save himself! I don’t want you to think him perfect— 
to reverence him so greatly! I don’t want you to be so 
much under his influence!” 

Christopher’s eyes were flashing. 

“Perhaps you would advise me to quit his service, Lady 
Frances? It would not be the first time I have received 
such advice!” 

“I fear it were useless,” she said. “I only beg you not to 
trust in him too much. He is utterly, utterly selfish.” 

“He loves his King—his Country!” 

“Don’t let us speak of it any more! You are greatly 
offended with me, I know! But—remember, Chris!” 

The angry look died out of his eyes. 

“Forgive me if I have been rude, Lady Frances! I did 
not mean to be, but I cannot bear to hear ill of my lord! 
Because he is indolent, and does not interest himself in 
affairs, people dub him untrustworthy. It is unjust! Even 
you think it impossible that a man should be above 
suspicion! I—well let us talk of something else!” His 
boyish smile peeped out. 

Lady Frances nodded. 

“What we really want to discuss is how to bring him to 
my masquerade,” she said. “Only I deviated again.” 

“I’ll send him to you,” promised Christopher. “I think 
he will be only too honoured.” 

“Pho!” My lady snapped her fingers. “So much for 
that! And you are to bring him. Of course I am inviting 
you.” 

“How—how very kind you are!” exclaimed Christopher. 
“Thank you very much, but do you think you want me?” 

“I had not asked you otherwise. Now, listen, Chris! I 
have decided that masquerade had best be in June, so unless 


140 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


I change my mind, June it will be. I shall not send out 
the invitations for some time yet, but you may tell 
Roxhythe. Tell him, too, that the success of my party 
depends on his being present. ’Twill flatter his vanity.” 

“I will. I’ll tell him as soon as he comes home.” The 
words were hardly out of his mouth before he had regretted 
them. 

Lady Frances looked up sharply. 

“Home? Where then is he?” 

“I think—in Paris,” said Christopher uncomfortably. 

“Again! Then—” she stopped. “Yes. He is very 

much in love with Madame, is he not?” 

“I—I believe so!” said Christopher, who was sick of the 
sound of the Duchess d’Orleans’ sobriquet. He prepared 
to make good his escape. 


CHAPTER VIII 
Madame 

Roxhythe proceeded to Paris in a blaze of magnifi¬ 
cence, and on his arrival went at once to the Louvre, to 
the apartments of M. le Comte de Saint-Aignan. The 
doors flew open before him, and he was ushered into the 
private room of M. le Comte. 

The room was furnished sumptuously and was much 
gilded. M. le Comte, swathed in a marvellous satin 
wrapper, was reposing on a silken-covered divan. In 
one hand he had a book of poems; the other was held by 
his valet, who knelt at his side, manicuring monsieur’s 
delicate nails. The air was heavy with some sweet scent; 
a fire burned in the grate. On every embroidered seat 
were cushions; the rugs that covered the polished floor 
were very thick and soft. 

When Roxhythe was announced the Comte dropped his 
hook in surprise and swung his legs to the ground. 

“Mon Dieu! Roxhyt’e!” 

Roxhythe came forward gracefully. 

“If I am very inopportune, say so, my dear Comte.” 

“Inopportune! Mais non! How could such a thing 
be?” cried Saint-Aignan. He rose, and clasped my lord’s 
hand. Over his shoulder he addressed the valet. 
“Frangois, you may go. Tell them to see to monsieur’s 
apartments and his baggage. Vite!” 

“Oui, monsieur .” The man slipped out. 

Saint-Aignan drew his guest to a chair. 

“But sit down, mon cher! Why are you here?” 

Roxhythe put his hat on the table. He cast the Comte a 
quizzical glance. 

“My dear Henri, you know as well, perhaps better, than 
I do myself.” 

The Comte made a little gesture of protest. 

“Roxhyt’e! So blunt! So brusque!” 

141 


142 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I cry your pardon! You want a pretty phrase, eh? 
Well, I have come on account of the beaux yeux of 
Madame.” 

“Oh, that!” The Comte threw out his hands. “It will 
suffice. They think that in England?” 

“I really don’t know. It is quite likely.” 

“They do not know you in England? Not even now?” 

“Henri, you are a rogue. Do you think that you know 
me?” 

“Mais oui! Tu es un grand poseur , mon ami!” 

“Then they know me in England?” 

“No. They do not think you an intriguer.” 

Roxhythe drew out his comfit-box. 

“Let me offer you a sweetmeat!” 

The Comte accepted one smiling. 

“You find that a good way to turn the subject?” 

“An excellent way. I have never known it fail.” 

“Except with me!” 

“Oh, you! You are incorrigible, Henri! But do strive 
to remember that I am an idle flaneur /” 

“I will try. You do not intend to confide in me?” 

“But certainly! I bought these quite modish boots at 
Piccat’s. My gloves I obtained with much difficulty at 
Dormont’s. You’ll observe the gold fringe with the blue 
entwined. I conceived the idea. So now we have gloves 
a la Roxhythe. I have my uses, you see.” 

The Comte could not resist inspecting the gloves. He did 
it surreptitiously and pretended that he was not interested. 

“Peste! What do I want with your gloves? Va done! 
You’ve naught to tell me of your business in Paris?” 

“You’ll hear it all from His Majesty. Why plague me?” 

Saint-Aignan almost pouted. 

“You are as secret as the dead. Eh bien! Tell me of 
your cold, dark city. What of Whitehall?” 

“The same as ever. And the cold, dark city is very 
bright and spring-like.” 

“ C’est vrai? Ah! Roxhyt’e!” He straightened in his 
chair. 

“Well, what now?” My lord looked lazily across at him. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


143 


“How dared you stay with de Guiche last month? Whv 
did you not come here as before?” 

“Two reasons.” 

Give them, vaurien! You will be abominably rude, I 
know!” 

“I shall. Firstly, de Guiche showed a marked desire for 
my company; secondly, I had little or no desire for yours. 
Are you satisfied?” 

^Parfaitement /” The Comte’s mobile face was wreathed 
in smiles. “Inimitable one! And for how long do you 
intend to honour me?” 

“I am not sure. Not more than ten days. Can you bear 
with me so long as that?” 

“1 could bear with you for much longer. You refresh 
me. You have made your bow to the King?” 

“No, I came straight to you.” 

“Ah, you must go to His Majesty! He will be delighted 
to see you again. I tell you, Roxhyt’e, it is only in France 
that you are appreciated.” 

“Oh, no! They appreciate me in England, I assure you.” 

“A maker of gloves! Bah! I shall take you with me 
to-night.” 

Roxhythe turned an inquiring eye upon him. 

“To the levee,” nodded Saint-Aignan. 

Roxhythe sighed. 

“I believe I shall be indisposed. Your Grand 
Monarcque is so damned austere.” 

Saint-Aignan laughed at him. 

“That will be good for you, mon cher! A change from 
your King, eh?” 

“Yes,” said Roxhythe. “King Charles, thank God, is nol 
of a strenuous disposition.” 

“But you will come?” 

Roxhythe rose. He smiled down at the brisk Comte. 

“For the good of my soul,” he bowed. 

He went to the levee, gorgeously clad in silver and pale 
blue, with slashings of rose-pink. Even the critical Saint- 
Aignan was pleased to approve of his costume. lie 
observed that Roxhythe “took the eye.” 


144 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


His Majesty was very gracious. He allowed Roxhythe to 
kiss his hand, and he stayed for some moments to talk to 
him. Then he pursued his regal way, an imposing little 
figure, bearing himself with all the haughtiness, the 
sublime magnificence that characterised him. 

Roxhythe always protested that His Most Christian 
Majesty was a figure of fun, but in his heart he must have 
respected him, although he never acknowledged it. He 
remarked, when pressed, that Louis tickled his sense of 
humour. 

When the King left him my lord paid some extravagant 
compliments to the La Valliere, under the eye of Madame 
de Montespan, for whom he possessed some strange 
fascination, until that eye was flaming with anger. Then 
he left La Valliere, and paid still more extravagant com¬ 
pliments to La Montespan, to the amusement of 
Mademoiselle. After that he disappeared in the wake of 
de Guiche, and was next seen in attendance on 
Mademoiselle de Foucheron, one of the Queen’s ladies. 

Monsieur, as was called the Due d’Orleans, strolled 
across the room, saw Roxhythe, exclaimed at him, and 
claimed his attention. Roxhythe’s boredom grew. He did 
not find the King’s brother entertaining. He presently 
departed, taking with him one Philippe de Courcillon, 
Marquis de Dangeau. He appeared no more that evening. 

Saint-Aignan found him in elegant deshabille, in his 
room, some hours later. 

“ Mais , mon ami! Madame has been asking for you!” 

“Alas!” Roxhythe sat down. “I met Monsieur instead.” 

“Madame did not arrive until an hour later. I told her 
you were fatigued from your journey and had retired early. 
And why did you drag de Courcillon with you? Mon 
Dieu, mon Dieu, tu es incorrigible /” 

“Oh? Was it not permitted? De Courcillon amuses 
me. We went into the gardens and exchanged reminis¬ 
cences. I never believe in outstaying my welcome.” 

Saint-Aignan caught sight of himself in the glass. 

“I am not satisfied with this wig,” he mused. “It lacks 
that indescribable something—My dear Marquis, you 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


145 


could not outstay your welcome, but certain it is that every 
one is ten thousand times more intrigued to see you now 
that you are gone. It is very curious.” 

“No, very natural. I never stay longer than an hour at 
a levee.” 

Saint-Aignan started to laugh. 

“ Pardieu, Roxhyfe! Que tu es amusant! And they 
tolerate you at Whitehall? La-la! That is why they call 
you enigmatical! Because you do things that no one else 
dare dream of doing! And you have not offended to-night! 
No. ‘Voila’ they say.—‘ C’est Roxhyt’e!’ Oh, grand 
poseur /” 

“Go to bed,” smiled my lord. “You fatigue me!” 

“I woqld you might stay here an hundred years,” con¬ 
tinued Saint-Aignan. “I should never weary of you!” 
He went out, still chuckling.* 

Roxhythe arrived at the Palais Royal next afternoon, and 
inquired for Madame. 

The lackey shook his head. 

“Madame does not receive this afternoon, monsieur.” 

Roxhythe tapped his comfit-box with an impatient 
finger. # 

“My friend, you are not acquainted with me. I am 
Roxhythe.” 

The man bowed at once. 

“Pardon, milor’! If milor’ will enter, I will inform 
Madame. Madame has said she will receive milor’.” 

Roxhythe was shown into a great room-over-looking the 
courtyard. 

After a few moments the lackey returned. , 

“If milor’ will deign to follow me. ...” 

He led Roxhythe up the grand staircase, and across the 
hall, to a smaller room which was Madame’^ private salon. 

The Duchesse rose at his entry, and extended her hand. 

“I have been expecting you, my lord.” 

Roxhythe bowed, carrying her fingers to his lips. If he 
ever bent the knee to a woman, that woman was Henrietta 
Stuart, Duchesse d’Orleans. 

“I am honoured, Madame.” 


146 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


She waved him to a chair, and made a sign to her lady- 
in-waiting to leave the room. The lady went out, grace- 
fully. 

“Sit down near me! C’est cela! Tell me, did you 
recognize my demoiselle d’honneur ?” 

Roxhythe frowned. 

“Was she with you at Dunkirk, Madame?” 

“And in London. You do not remember?” 

“On the contrary. Mademoiselle de Keroualle. Hi-s 
Majesty conceived a liking for her.” 

Madame’s great eyes scanned his face. 

“Mademoiselle desires to join the Court at Whitehall. 5 

Roxhythe’s lips twitched. 

“I see. Well, you have chosen a fit envoy.” 

“So I think. Charles will permit it?” 

“No doubt he will be delighted.” 

Madame had charming dimples. She showed them now. 

“He is a sad man,” she said. “Poor Charles!” The 
dimples vanished. “Well—M. Colbert de Croissy informs 
us that His Majesty—considers.” 

“What I admire about M. Colbert is his careful truth,’ 
remarked Roxhythe. 

“Then His Majesty has not come to a decision?” 

“By no means. Subject to certain conditions he will 
give the matter his serious consideration.” 

“Ah!” Madame pulled a cushion into place. “Go on, 
Roxhythe.” 

My lord chose and ate a comfit with great deliberation. 
Then he snapped the box and put it away. 

“Madame, you must forgive me an I weary you, but I 
wish to come to an understanding. You’ll permit me to go 
back a little. In February as you know, M. Colbert was 
granted an audience at Whitehall. There were present, 
His Majesty, His Grace of York, Sir Thomas Clifford, and 
myself. M. Colbert laid before us as prettily worded a 
scheme as it has ever been my lot to listen to. The second 
thing I admire in M. Colbert is his capacity for vague 
terms. The proposition that he unfolded was rosy in hue— 
for England. The only point where we were left in the 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


147 


dark regarded France. His Majesty was, and still is, 
curious to know in what way France stands to profit by 
the alliance.” 

“Did M. Colbert not tell yoy?” evaded Madame. 

“M. Colbert showed himself most astute except in one 
point. That was his estimation of King Charles. He did 
not give him credit for any brain, Madame.” 

“M. Colbert knows that His Majesty is—very wise.” 

“Then he did not intend to flatter him by showing that 
knowledge. He gave us fair words but he omitted to tell us 
exactly what it is that France requires of England.” 

“Perhaps he thought His Majesty astute enough to guess 
that.” 

“It may be so. But, Madame, it is not King Charles his 
custom to sign treaties on supposition.” 

“Roxhythe, did I not tell you myself? Why recall all 
this?” 

“Madame,” he answered, bowing. “I have always said 
that you were born to be a politician. You also gave me 
vague explanations and fair words. I want plain speaking; 
that is why I recall it. Till now you have refused to speak 
plainly.” 

She sat still, twisting the cushion tassel about her finger. 

“You are very bold, my lord.” 

“Your pardon, Madame, no. Rather ’tis you and King 
Louis who are bold to seek to cozen my master.” 

Her irrepressible smile peeped out. 

“I think perhaps you are right, Roxhythe. I will be 
more explicit.” 

Again he bowed. 

“King Louis is at war with Holland. At any moment he 
may be called upon to war with Spain. France is very 
powerful; she can easily support the cost of these wars. 
But . . . Madame looked up. “. . . She must be 
assured that England will not enter into the conflict on 
Holland’s side. That might—I say might, Roxhythe—turn 
the scale. Louis is cautious. He does not want to run 
the risk of defeat. So he seeks to bring about this treaty. 
You know all this.” 


148 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

\ V 

“Yes, Madame, but I wanted it from your own lips. 
This war with Spain—I gather it would only come in the 
event of the Spanish King’s death?” 

“That is so. The matter is very near to Louis’ heart.” 

“So I apprehend. Now, M. Colbert spoke with his 
engaging airiness of wars. He told us that King Louis 
would require England to aid him in these wars. Does 
this apply to the possible war with Spain?” 

“Of course it does.” 

“I wonder if King Louis ever gave the Triple Bond his 
attention?” 

“Why?” 

“Because if he had carefully read that bond he would 
have seen that England has promised to hold Spain 
inviolate.” 

“He knows that.” 

“Yet he proposes this?” 

“Roxhythe, the whole of this treaty is a violation of the 
Triple Bond! Why cavil at that one point?” 

“That one point, Madame, is direct. The rest is vague, 
and might be termed a violation. This is too positive.” 

“You want it kept out of the treaty?” 

“I do. It is no matter to King Charles whether or no 
France usurps the throne of Spain. But it is possible that 
Clifford and Arlington might not see eye to eye with His 
Majesty there. Can you not employ one of those vague 
terms, Madame?” 

“To leave a loop-hole for Charles? Roxhythe, 
Roxhythe! ” 

“All I ask is that you do not specify any particular war. 
You may make it as blind as you please, but pray have a 
thought for Messieurs Clifford and Arlington their 
scruples.” 

“They must know what it is that Louis hath in his mind?” 

“They know, yes. But they can shut their eyes to the 
obvious so long as it is not made too obvious.” 

Her laughter bubbled over. 

“How wise you are, Roxhythe! I will tell King Louis. 
Is that all you want with me?” 


THE £REAT ROXHYTHE 149 

I fear I am trespassing on your time, Madame. It is 
not all. There are two more points.” 

She sighed. 

“Let us have the first.” 

“The first, Madame, is the point on which you have— 
pardon me—consistently evaded me. You say that King 
Louis wishes to see the Catholic religion furthered in 
England. He also wishes England to join him in subduing 
the Provinces.” 

“The two are not incompatible,” said Madame. 

Roxhythe smiled a little. 

“Are they not, Madame? Yet I think you will agree 
that they cannot both be done at one and the same time.” 

Madame twitched her gown with fingers that trembled. 

“Roxhythe, I am tired of this subject.” 

“And I, Madame. Therefore I wished to have the 
question settled. His Majesty stipulates that the further¬ 
ance of Catholicism in England shall precede war with the 
Dutch.” 

“Yes, Roxhythe. And King Louis stipulates that war 
with the Dutch shall come first.” 

“I am sorry. May I state my case?” 

“Please do.” 

“It is this: by making England Catholic once more King 
Charles his position is strengthened. He may then safely 
enter into hostilities against Holland. If he does so now 
there will be uproar in the Houses, perhaps discovery of 
this compact; even failure.” 

Madame looked up. She scanned Roxhythe’s face 
thoughtfully. 

“My lord, you have known my brother for many 
years.” 

“I have had that honour, Madame.” 

“I also have known him for many vears.” 

“Yes, Madame?” 

“Yes, Roxhythe. I know that he is astute; I see that he 
wishes to avoid war with Holland; I know too that this 
desire for Catholicism is a blind to King Louis, and possi¬ 
bly a sop to my brother James his scruples. King Charles 


150 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

can twist and dupe his Parliament with the utmost ease. 
Am I right?” . 

“Not entirely, Madame. My argument still stands.” 

“Because of James?” 

“No. It is King Charles his wish.” 

Madame bit her lip. She seemed to consider. 

“So I am to bear that message to King Louis?” 

“I shall be greatly indebted to you if you will, Madame.” 

“I think I will do it, Roxhythe. And we shall see. Is 
that all?” 

“I am very tiresome, Madame. There is still the second 
point.” 

Suddenly her gravity left her. She threw out her hands, 
laughing. 

“I know what is coming now!” she despaired. 

“ Mordieu , I’ll never act intermediary again! The price!” 

Roxhythe did not smile. 

“An all important question, Madame.” 

She folded her hands. 

“Proceed.” 

“M. Colbert—I think I told you of my admiration for 
his vagueness?” 

“Chut!” she reproved him. 

“I thought so. M. Colbert spoke of the bribe—no, I 
beg your pardon—the allowance that King Louis wished 
Lo offer my master. We were both surprised and gratified 
to hear of this matter. But M. Colbert contrived and still 
contrives to leave us unsatisfied after all. He forgot to 
mention figures. I fear he is very absent-minded, 
Madame.” 

“Did I not mention figures when you last were here?” 
asked Madame. 

“I have no recollection of it. I remember you gave 
vent to some pleasantry on the subject.” 

“Pleasantry, sir?” 

“I believe so. You spoke of sixty thousand pounds, 
or some such trifle.” 

“That was no pleasantry, Roxhythe.” 

My lord’s brows rose. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


151 


“I did yon the honour to treat it as such, Madame.” 

Madame studied the cushion tassel. 

“Well? What does Charles want?” 

“He will sign your treaty, Madame, for the annual 
allowances of two hundred thousand pounds paid quarterly. 
No less.” 

Madame bit her lip. 

“Impossible!” 

Roxhythe took up his hat. 

“In that case, Madame, we are wasting time. The 
negotiations need proceed no further.” He rose as he 
spoke. 

Madame raised her hands. 

“Oh, la-la! So haughty? No, no, sit down, Roxhythe! 
We must talk of this.” 

Roxhythe relaxed again. 

“What is there to talk of, Madame? Those are King 
Charles his terms. It but remains for you to put them 
before King Louis.” 

“Shall we be quite honest?” said Madame, sweetly. 
“You name that figure—why?” 

“It seems a fair price,” answered Roxhythe. “Or do 
you want me to be really honest?” 

“I said so.” 

“Very well. I am, as I was informed the other day, 
very quick to take impressions. I received one from you 
that led me to advise my master to ask that sum of Louis.” 

“Aho! I wondered if you were as stupidly obtuse as 
you appeared. It seems you are not. I felicitate you, 
my lord. But I do not think I gave you such a decided 
impression.” 

“You gave me to understand that Louis was prepared to 
go to a far greater sum than sixty thousand. The rest 
I gathered from mine own intuition, and various other 
sources.” 

“My Lord Roxhythe, you are either a very clever man 
or else a fool. I do not think that Louis will go to that 
figure. One hundred thousand perhaps. But two hundred 
thousand! It is a very different matter.” 


152 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“You will see, Madame. It is King Charles his last 
word.” 

She looked at him admiringly. 

“You have unbounded confidence in yourself, Roxhythe. 
Do you tell me that that is my brother his last word? I 
seem to see your hand alone in it. You must be very sure.” 

“I am very sure,” he replied. 

“So was Lord Arundell sure when he asked two million.” 

“But I, Madame, am not Lord Arundell.” 

“No,” she sighed. “I would you were. You are quite 
certain?” 

“Yes, Madame.” 

“Then we understand one another. I’ll give—King 
Charles his last word—to Louis. You are satisfied?” 

He rose. 

“Since I am assured of your support in the matter, yes, 
Madame.” 

“You are audacity itself,” she said. “Will you wait 
on me—no, I’ll send you word what day. Are you stay¬ 
ing with de Guiche as before?” 

“No,” said my lord, possessing himself of her hand. 
“This time I am honouring Saint-Aignan.” 

“How truly delightful for him!” she retaliated. “Well, 
you shall hear from me.” 

Roxhythe kissed her hand. 

“I shall await your commands, Madame. I have to 
thank you for receiving me to-day.” 

“Did you see Madame?” asked Saint-Aignan of him, 
two hours later. 

“I did,” said Roxhythe. 

“Well? What of the interview?” 

“She is the most charming, beautiful lady that I have 
ever known,” replied my lord. 

“I consider that you have offered me your comfit-box!” 
laughed Saint-Aignan. “I am dumb, then?” 

Roxhythe nodded approvingly. 

“You should never give way to idle curiosity,” he said. 
He surveyed his friend critically. “And I do not think 1 
like the mixture of salmon-pink and orange.” 


CHAPTER IX 

The Growth of the Seed 

Lord Ashley-Cooper desired to see Mr. Dart. Lord 
Ashley-Cooper was conducted to the library. Christopher 
was not there, so my lord was requested to wait. Mv 
lord sat down. He surveyed his surroundings, which 
were very handsome. The room was hung in brown and 
gold; the chairs were leather-seated, with carved wooden 
backs; the table was of solid oak. Over by the window 
stood Christopher’s desk. The room gave on to the 
gardens. 

Presently Christopher came quickly into the room. 

“My lord! This is indeed an honour!” 

Ashley took his hands, looking at him gloomily. It 
was a different Christopher from the boy who had visited 
him two years ago. Christopher had now an ease of 
manner; a presence. He dressed well, and with none of 
his former sobriety. He still wore his own fair hair, 
but he had taken to dressing it very carefully, and it hung 
in ordered curls about his shoulders. Ashley had watched 
the gradual change from afar but he had rarely seen 
Christopher for any length of time alone. Hence Chris¬ 
topher’s surprise. 

He pulled forward a more comfortable chair. 

“Pray sit down, sir! I am delighted to see you. Have 
you commands for me, I wonder?” 

“No.” Ashley watched one of my lord’s liveried servants 
place wine and glasses on the table. “This is purely a 
friendly call.” 

Christopher nodded to the servant. 

“You may go, Roger. I am out to all other visitors.” 

The man bowed and departed. Christopher busied 
himself with the glasses. 

“Some canary, my lord? Yes?” He handed him the 

153 


154 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


glass and poured out another for himself. Then he sat 
down. 

“Well, it is a very long while since I have had any 
private conversation with you, sir. This is very pleasant.” 

“Indeed, yes. I do not think I have really talked to 
you since you returned from Holland.” 

Christopher frowned a little. On that Occasion, Ashley 
had been moved to adjure him to leave Roxhythe’s service, 
now that his work was done. After that there had been a 
slight estrangement between them. 

“No, I think not,” said Christopher. “Do you hear from 
Roderick at all, sir?” 

“Very seldom,” replied Ashley. “Have you any news 
of him?” 

For a while they talked of Roderick and trivialities. 
Then Ashley took advantage of a pause to change the 
subj ect. 

“Lord Roxhythe is still away?” 

Christopher sighed inwardly. 

“Yes,” he replied, on guard. 

“Indeed? He is often abroad, is he not? I suppose you 
manage his affairs?” 

“I have that honour,” said Christopher. He filled up the 
glasses. 

“Christopher, have you yet discovered that Lord 
Roxhythe is a—very complex character?” 

“No,” said Christopher. “Have you?” 

“I suspect it,” said Ashley. “I fear it. In fact, I fear 
Roxhythe.” 

Christopher was silent. He was tired of discussing 
Roxhythe with all and sundry. 

“I fear he is not so indolent as he would have us believe.” 
Ashley ground the knuckles of one hand into the palm 
of the other. “I mistrust him. I always have mistrusted 
him. I may say I am a judge of character.” 

“Oh!” said Christopher. 

Ashley slewed round in his chair so that he faced him. 

“Why is he in Paris?” he asked abruptly. 

Christopher set down his glass. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


155 


“He is in Paris because he is in love with Madame. 
What else would you like to know?’ 5 

Some of the worried lines were smoothed from Ashley’s 
forehead. 

“Is that true?” 

The colour was mounting to Christopher’s cheeks. His 
eyes sparkled dangerously. 

“I am not in the habit of lying, my lord.” 

“No, no,” soothed Ashley. “I know you at least are 
honest. And I know you are no plotter. Well, well! 
You then can vouch for what you tell me?” 

“Yes, I can!” cried Christopher, carried away. “My 
lord is at Madame’s feet! That is his reason for going 
so frequently to Paris! None other!” 

“I may have been wrong.” 

“Do you suspect everyone of plotting, sir?” 

“Everyone!” replied Ashley, quickly. “Everyone!” 

“Even Roxhythe!” Christopher laughed derisively. 
“Why, I tell you no thought is farther from his head!” 
He spoke with unbounded confidence. Ashley read the 
transparent honesty in his eyes, and leant back in his 
chair. 

“And you know him as well as anyone, I suppose. 
Oh, do not be angry, Chris! It is part of my office to 
guard against possible intrigue. You say Roxhythe is 
in love with Madame. I had not thought of that. Yes, it 
is very likely. He must ever be in love with some woman/' 
He sneered. 

“Suppose we talk of something else?” suggested Chris¬ 
topher, controlling the fury in his voice. 

Ashley leant forward. 

“Ah, Chris! Don’t speak like that! I had no thought to 
offend you. I wish you so well.” 

Christopher was mollified. 

“I am not offended, my lord. Indeed, I am sorry if 
I spoke rudely. But I do not relish adverse criticism of 
my Lord Roxhythe.” 

“Then we are friends, Chris?” 

Christopher took his outstretched hand. 


156 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Of course, my lord!” 

The heavy curtain hanging across the open doorway 
parted noiselessly. A tall figure stood there, all in black 
and gold, with thick chestnut curls framing his face. One 
white hand rested on his sword-hilt; the other fingered 
the lace at his throat. Calm brown eyes surveyed the 
two by the fire. 

The Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe swept a 
bow to Lord Ashley-Cooper. 

Christopher was on his feet in a flash. 

“My lord!” he cried joyfully, and hurried forward. 

Roxhythe held out his hand. He spoke to Ashley. 

“I intrude. I apologize. I thought Chris was alone.” 

Ashley watched Christopher kiss my lord’s fingers and 
saw the quick pressure of Roxhythe’s hand on his. He 
too rose. 

“I think ’tis I who am the intruder,” he said. “I have 
been visiting Christopher, whom I have not seen for some 
time. I will now withdraw.” 

Roxhythe disengaged his hand. 

“I beg you will not!” He went to the door. 

Ashley stayed him with a gesture. 

“I was on the point of taking my leave,” he assured 
him. “I have been here too long already. I am a busy 
man, Lord Roxhythe. Chris!” 

Christopher accompanied him out. 

When he came back, Roxhythe had shed his long gold- 
lined cloak, and was seated on the edge of the table, swing¬ 
ing one booted leg. 

“Well, Chris? Everything is as it should be?” 

“Yes, sir. There are one or two letters from the bailiff 
at Bevan. I do not think him honest. Will you see them?” 

Roxhythe nodded. 

“And for the rest?” 

“Nothing untoward has happened, sir. You are returned 
sooner than I expected.” He turned over a pile of papers, 
searching for the letters. 

“Sooner than I expected myself. I found I was tired of 
Paris.” He took two sheets of parchment from 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


157 


Christopher, and started to read. “I did not know you 
were on speaking terms with Ashley,” he remarked, not 
lifting his eyes from the paper. “A reconciliation?” 

“Something of the sort,” acknowledged Christopher. “I 
have barely spoken to him since he counselled me to leave 
your service. To-day he came to visit me. A kindly 
intention, but he contrived to ruffle me the more.” 

“Oh?” Roxhythe turned the sheet over, and went on 
reading. 

“Yes.” Christopher knitted his brows. “He wanted to 
know why you were in Paris; why you went so often, and 
a lot more beside. I am sick to death of being questioned 
concerning your movements!” 

Roxhythe stopped swinging his leg. Still he did not 
raise his eyes. 

“I hope you satisfied him?” 

“Well—yes! I think now that I spoke hastily, and 
had no right to say what I did. Rut I was angered, and 
the words slipped out.” 

Roxhythe laid down the paper. 

“What did you say?” 

“I confirmed the popular tale, sir. Ashley had some 
fool’s notion of intrigue. I told him you were at the 
feet of Madame.” He spoke rather nervously. 

Roxhythe picked the paper up again. 

“Truthful boy,” he said. 

Christopher was silent for a moment, still frowning. 

“My lord,” he said, at last. “Ashley is not the first who 
has sought to suck me of news concerning you. I dined 
with Harcourt the other night, and he talked of you until 
I had perforce to snub him. Everyone wants to know what 
you do, and why you do it. Even Lady Frances has ques¬ 
tioned me! And I do not know! I—I can only fall 
back on gossip, and I have been so harried and worried 
that I too am hegining to wonder: why did you go to 
Paris?” 

Roxhythe went on reading. 

“You told me yourself a moment ago.” 

“I only told you what gossip says. You have never 


158 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


confided in me—indeed, I did not expect it. I thought 
nothing of these sudden comings and goings. But other 
people seem suspicious. Why are they suspicious? Why 
do they think you—are not what you seem to be?” 

“Heaven knows!” 

Christopher moved an agitated hand. 

“My lord, you know I am not inquisitive. But—but—is 
there any truth in Ashley’s suspicions?” 

At last my lord looked up. 

“What precisely are his suspicions?” 

“He told me he mistrusted you; he said you were a 
complex character. He hinted at intrigue. I know—I 
thought I knew—that such a thing would never enter your 
head. I said so; I laughed the idea to scorn. He was 
reassured, but between them all, I have been set thinking. 
Is there any truth in their suspicions?” 

“None whatever,” said Roxhythe. He folded up the letters. 

Christopher heaved a sigh of relief. 

“I knew it!” he said. “But when next you go away I 
wish you would leave me some explanation to give these 
people!” 

“You gave them the right one,” answered Roxhythe. 

“Yes, but I did not know if it was right or wrong. I 
had to say something, and oh lud! the good advice I have 
received!” He laughed ruefully. “Everyone advises me to 
quit your service at once, and why God alone knows! I 
have been so infuriated, sir!” 

“Poor Chris! You can quit my service if you will.” 

“Sir! Have I shown myself so lacking in affection to 
you that you should think that possible? I do not want 
ever to do that. I—I am so relieved to know that you are 
not leading—well, a double life! Of course I did not 
really think it, but when several people all show suspicions 
one cannot help wondering. And then there was the Dutch 
affair. You plotted then, but it was for the King, and the 
King was plotting for the country, so it’s all one. You 
would never plot against the country, 1 know. I do not 
think, either, that you are in the habit of taking part 
in intrigue.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 159 

“You know me rather well, don’t you?” smiled 
Roxhythe. 

‘’Better than do these—mischief-makers,” replied Chris¬ 
topher. “I am wise enough to trust in you implicitly.” 

Roxhythe regarded him curiously. 

“Are you? I am flattered.” He glanced down at his 
letters. His face was quite impassive. 

“It is strange that so many people should warn me 
’gainst you,” continued Christopher, airily. “First there 
was de Staal . . .” 

The brown eyes lifted, and fell again. 

“. . . . Then Roderick, then Ashley, then Lady 
Frances. Are they all crazed?” 

“It seems so. Christopher, I think you must go to 
Bevan and attend to this matter.” Roxhythe tapped the 
parchment with his finger. “I mislike the tone of the 
man’s letter. I’ll have you keep a watchful eye on his 
doings, and, if need be, dismiss him and engage another 
in his place.” 

Christopher’s face fell a little. 

“Very well, sir. I suppose I shall be there some weeks?” 

“I am afraid so. I shall miss you sadly here, but it 
cannot be helped.” 

“When do you wish me to go, sir?” 

“As soon as possible.” Roxhythe stood up. “I’ll look 
more closely into this presently.” He tossed the letters 
on to the table. “What am I doing to-night?” 

Christopher referred to a tablet. 

“You are going to Lady Caroline Sowerby’s rout, sir.” 

Roxhythe shook his head. 

“What induced you to accept that? Sowerby, forsooth! 
No, that is too much to expect of me. I shall wait on Lady 
Crewe.” He went out. 


CHAPTER X 












May, 1670 

During the weeks that followed Roxhythe lived almost 
entirely in France. At first Louis refused to countenance 
Charles’ demands, and it needed much skilful diplomacy 
and tender handling to persuade him. My Lord Arlington 
too proved troublesome, and cavilled at first one point 
and then another. At length Louis agreed that the further¬ 
ance of Catholicism in England should precede war with 
the Dutch, but on the subject of price he remained adamant. 
It almost seemed as though another deadlock had been 
reached, and Charles, urgently in need of money, was 
inclined to modify his demands. It was Roxhythe who 
counselled patience; Roxhythe who continued the negoti¬ 
ations, calmly, unhurriedly. 

Christopher stayed at Bevan for nearly two months. 
Whenever he announced his intention of returning, as if by 
magic some new trouble would arise and he would be 
bidden to attend to it. It was not until the beginning of 
March of 1670 that he came back, and by that time the 
negotiations with France were practically at an end. 

Towards the middle of the month Roxhythe had private 
audience with the King. Charles was in high spirits. 

“My dear Davy, we have come to the end!” 

Roxhythe was placid. 

“I always said that the spring would see the end,” he 
remarked. 

Charles drew him to a chair. 

“You did, David. M. Colbert de Croissy has been with 
me. Louis gives me the sum I ask. Bealling is to draft 
the treaty. We win.” 

“Yes, Sire, we win. I was determined that there should 
not be another failure.” 

Charles pressed his shoulder. 

160 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


161 


“You are thinking of the Nassau intrigue? Does it 
rankle?” 

“I believe it does,” said Roxhythe. 

It was not until May, however, that the treaty was 
signed. There was much argument as to the manner in 
which it should be done, but it was at length decided that 
Madame d’Orleans should come over to Dover ostensibly 
to see her brother, and that the representatives of both 
parties should sign it there. 

Louis and his Court were making a tour of the country 
round Dunkirk, so that it would be no great matter for 
Madame to sail to England for a short space. 

On the sixteenth of the month Charles travelled in state 
to Dover. He was accompanied by all his court with the 
exception of the Duke of York, who was prevented from 
coming until a few days later. 

The festivities at Dover w r ere riotously extravagant. 
Every minute of every day was planned out for Madame’s 
entertainment, yet in the midst of all the gaiety Charles 
found time to have private speech with his sister. 

The interview did not last long, but it was conclusive. 
That evening the King summoned his favourite. 

“David, I have agreed to my sister’s wishes.” 

“Ah!” said Roxhythe. “And they were?” 

“That I should give the war with Holland my first atten¬ 
tion.” He looked closely at my lord as he spoke. 

“You thus make yourself dependent on Parliament, Sir.’* 

“Not wholly, Louis gives me three million livres yearly 
for as long as the war shall last.” 

Roxhythe walked to the window. 

“In part I applaud you, Sir. It w T ere best to defer the 
declaring of yourself a Catholic.” 

Charles laughed. 

“I have always known that to be worse than imprudent.” 

“Of course. I think His Grace of York will not care 
for the amendment.” 

“Perhaps not. But I think I am wiser than is James.” 

“So do I,” said Roxhythe. 

There the matter ended. 


162 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


A few days later came the Duke of York. When he 
heard that Charles had given way to Louis he was first 
furious and then despairing. He implored his brother to 
recall the promise; he uttered solemn warnings and urgent 
pleas. To all of which Charles smiled and smiled again. 

Madame at once perceived James’ discontent. As soon 
as she could conveniently do so she taxed him with it. He 
came into the room one evening when she was seated with 
Roxhythe at the window, watching the bonfires in the 
distance. When the Duke entered Madame shot a com¬ 
manding glance at her companion. My lord bowed and 
sauntered out. 

James sat down heavily. After a moment Madame went 
to him and laid a caressing hand on his arm. 

“What is it, James? There is something you do not 
like?” 

The Duke covered her hand with his. 

“I am torn this way and that, Henriette. I scarce know 
myself what ails me.” 

She sat down beside him. 

“Why are you so torn, mon ami ? Is it this bond? You 
still have misgivings?” 

“Deep misgivings. This secrecy likes me not at all. It 
is as though we were thieves—in the ni ght.” 

She was silent. There was nothing to say. 

“I want this alliance,” he continued sombrely. “I have 
prayed for it. But not this way.” 

“How then would you have it?” 

“Openly. With the consent of Parliament.” 

“They would never consent.” 

“They might be compelled. There is the army.” 

“It is not practicable,” she answered. “You know it.” 

He brushed his hand to and fro across the table. 

“Henriette, what we do is not right! It is not honour¬ 
able! For Kings to traffic secretly with one another—it 
revolts me!” 

Again she was silent. 

And now you have induced Charles to go to war with 
Holland before he declares himself Catholic!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


163 


“James, believe me, it is impossible for Charles to do 
that now. He dare not. The time is not yet.” 

“You are all the same,” said the Duke bitterly. “ ‘The 
time is not yet.’ Wait, wait, wait, until it is too late! I 
tell you I am sick unto death of the whole affair.” 

“Then leave it to us, James! Charles is acting for the 
best, as am I. Is it only this question of Catholicism that 
troubles you?” Her eyes searched his face. 

“No,” said James. “I fear a trap.” 

“Who would be likely to lay traps for you?” 

He returned her glance squarely. 

“Louis.” 

Madame took his hands. 

“I swear to you there is no such thing.” 

“You may not know.” 

“If there were a trap Charles had been the first to see 
it,” she said. 

James’s lip curled scornfully, and a little sadly. 

“Charles thinks of naught save money and women. He 
is careless—blind.” 

“You misjudge him,” she answered. “Charles is no 
fool.” 

He shook his head wearily. 

“I do not understand him. I never have understood 
him. Great issues weigh with him not at all; he spends his 
days idling—and making love.” 

“You do not know,” she said quietly. 

“It may be that.” An angry light came into his eyes. 
“He does not give me his confidence! He laughs at me, 
and fences when I question him. All his confidence goes 
to that man!” He jerked his head towards the door. 

“Roxhythe?” she asked, watching him. 

His hand clenched slowly. 

“Ay, Roxhythe. That impudent poseur! That court¬ 
darling! Roxhythe is never from his side. He employs 
him always—tells him his whole mind. Oh, they are 
fitly matched! Both are without honour! without 
decency!” 

“Don’t speak so loud. 


Remember, Charles is the King.” 


164 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“A pretty King!” he replied bitterly. “He cares for 
naught save his own pleasures. Do you think he enters 
into this treaty from any sense of patriotism? He does 
not! He sees a means whereby to gain money! Money 
that he will squander on his women and his playthings! 
He and his favourite! Oh, they are a fit couple! Roxhythe 
abets him in his extravagance! He panders to his vanity! 
I tell you that man is not to be trusted! He works only 
for himself.” 

“No. He works for the King. Never forget that, James. 
To that one man I believe he will always be loyal. Why do 
you so dislike him?” 

James rose jerkily to his feet, scraping his chair back 
across the wooden floor. 

“Because I am jealous of him,” he grated; “I admit it 
freely! He hath the place that should be mine! He hath 
the King his ear. There is nothing Charles does that 
Roxhythe does not know. There are many things that I 
know not of!” 

“ ’Sh! What reason have you for saying that?” 

He paced up and down the room. 

“I have eyes. I am not the fool Charles thinks me. I 
know that he plots behind my back. Oh, I’ve no proofs! 
But I know for all that.” 

Madame led him back to his seat. 

“James, you are speaking wildly. Your jealousy has 
carried you away. Charles has no secrets from you, I’ll 
swear. You should not make an enemy of Roxhythe for 
so foolish a reason.” So she chided him, her hand in his. 

“Ay, that is it,” he nodded. “I should not make an 
enemy of so powerful a man. I, the King’s brother! 
Cordieu, things have come to a pretty pass!” 

“Oh fie! You over-rate Roxhythe his influence. You 
know that you stand first with the King.” 

“I would it were so,” he answered, leaning his head in 
his hand. 

“It is so. Why, James, to what are you descended that 
you stoop to be jealous of a courtier?” 

He sat up. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


165 


“I am overwrought. I am not jealous of him. I do 
but mistrust him. This affair is preying on my nerves 
till I do not know what I am saying. Forget it, Henriette!” 

“It is forgotten,” she assured him. “And James! Put 
all thoughts of traps and false dealings out of your head. 
I, Henrietta Stuart, swear that there is no such thing.” 

He smiled up at her, his whole face softened. 

“I’d not accuse you of false dealing, child.” 

She patted his cheek. 

“There! Now you are sensible! Another thing I’ll tell 
you: Charles is not so soulless as you think. Trust in 
him to see that no harm comes to the alliance.” 

The smile faded. James turned his head away. 

Someone knocked on the door. A page entered holding 
the door for Roxhythe. 

James rose quickly. 

My lord bowed first to Madame, and then to the Duke. 

“I crave your pardon for this intrusion,” he said. “His 
Majesty sent me to request your presence in his room, 
sir.” 

James straightened his cravat. 

“I thank you, my Lord. Madame, you will excuse me?” 
He left the room. 

Down in the streets below were many lights. A torch¬ 
light procession was passing. There was much noise of 
shouting and of cheering. My lord went over to the 
window, looking out. 

“Roxhythe,” said Madame abruptly. “Why does my 
brother dislike you?” 

My lord glanced at her over his shoulder. 

“Does he?” he asked. 

“You know it. Do you annoy him?” 

“You see,” apologized Roxhythe. “I am of a flippant 
turn of mind.” 

That was all he would say. Dissatisfied, Madame 
broached the subject to the King next morning. 

“Charles, do you know that James hates Roxhythe?” 

The King was lolling on a couch. 

“My dear, he would hate a fly if it teased him.” 


166 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Does Roxhythe tease him?” 

“He has a certain air which distresses poor Jamie,” 
smiled the King. 

“It is a pity,” she mused. “James thinks that you do not 
give him your whole confidence.” 

Charles’ mournful eyes widened. 

“Dear, dear!” 

“He is afraid that you will walk into some trap of Louis’ 
making. He thinks you are a fool.” 

“I know,” said the King. “And I think him one. Yet 
we are really very fond of each other. An amusing 
situation.” 

“I wish that you understood one another better,” she 
sighed. “Or rather that James understood you.” 

“So do not I,” said Charles. “We are very well as we 
are.” He surveyed her languidly. “To-morrow the bond 
is to be signed?” 

“By your Commissioners, and by de Croissy. You’ve no 
misgivings?” 

“None,” he answered. The glance that passed between 
them was full of meaning. 

“I have to thank you for your patience in the matter, 
IJenriette.” 

She shook her head. 

“No, no! I am so glad to have been of use!” 

He put his arm about her. 

“You are a very charming child,” he said, and kissed 
her. “I would I might take you back with me to London.” 

Something sparkled on the end of her lashes. 

“Perhaps—I wish—so—too,” she said. 

He stroked her bright curls. For a while there was 
silence. 

“So I am to have La Keroualle?” said the King at 
length. 

Madame smiled again. 

“You asked Lr her long ago,” she parried. She was 
finding a nor el amusement in turning the hand she held 
ibis way and that so that the light caught the rings on his 
fingers. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


167 


“So I did. Louis must think well of her to send her to 
me.” 

“She is very beautiful,” said Madame, still holding his 
hand. 

“And very cunning?” The long fingers clasped hers. 

“Charles, do you not want her at Whitehall?” 

“I shall be delighted to have her,” he retorted. 

“She comes not as a spy, but as a—” 

“Secret agent. A nice distinction. But no matter.*' 

“I really do not wonder that James is annoyed with 
you,” said Madame severely. 


CHAPTER XI 


Unrest 

Summer. Christopher sat on the broad terrace at 
Sevan Court, looking out across the gardens into the blue 
haze. Before him the great house reared up its turrets, 
creeper-hung, against the cloudless sky. Clipped yew 
hedges dotted the lawns at his feet; flowers grew in stone 
pots around him. It was very still, very hot. Somewhere 
a bird was twittering sleepily to its mate; lying on the 
ground beside Christopher was a huge mastiff, his boon 
companion. 

Christopher contemplated the scene restfully. He felt 
at peace with the world. So much so that presently he 
closed his eyes. 

Lady Frances came out of the old Gothic door on to 
the terrace. For an instant she stood irresolute. Then 
she saw Christopher and smiled. 

Christopher felt light hands across his eyes. 

“Guess!” whispered my lady, behind him. 

He jumped up. 

“'Lady Frances, of course!” 

She came round the seat and sat down. The mastiff 
wagged his tail; then he went to sleep again. 

“How hot it is!” said her ladyship drowsily. “How 
beautiful!” 

Christopher agreed. 

“I came out to give you this,” continued Frances. She 
handed him a packet. “The courier has just arrived.” 

Christopher turned it over lazily. 

“Roderick,” he said. “Have you any news of my lord?” 

“A short note. He is escorting the King here in two 
days time. He adjures you to have everything in readi¬ 
ness.” 

“I don’t think there is anything more to be done,” said 

168 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


169 


Christopher. »T have racked my brains to discover some¬ 
thing.” 

‘There is nothing. Do you read that letter! Perhaps 
your brother will have news of the Prince.” 

Christopher broke upon the seals. 

It was late August of 1672. The past years had been 
fairly uneventful at home except that in October of 1670 
the Prince of Orange had come home on a visit to England. 
Roderick had been in his train, and the brothers had seen a 
great deal of one another. Roderick had succeeded in 
annoying Christopher by regarding him in studied gloom, 
and Roxhythe with scarce veiled disapproval. Christopher 
was thereby made uncomfortable. He was grateful to my 
lord for asking Roderick to Bevan House but at the same 
time he wished that he had not done it. He felt that 
Roderick was not a credit to him. It afforded him some 
satisfaction to see that Roderick was impressed by his 
standing in society. It was very pleasant when Lord 
Buckhurst strolled into the library where they were seated, 
and hailed him by his Christian name, asking some 
questions concerning Roxhythe’s whereabouts. Roderick 
was so disdainful and affected such superior airs that 
little incidents such as that filled him with unholy joy. 

Abroad much had taken place. In France Madame had 
died suddenly, mysteriously, some said poisoned. In 
Holland, William Nassau had gradually broken away from 
De Witt. Lately he had been made, at twenty-one, Captain- 
General of the army, and was fighting Louis with all the 
energy and indomitable courage of his race. 

The French generals, Turenne and Conde, had overrun 
three of the Dutch Provinces, spreading terror before them. 
Then had been the moment for Nassau to rise. Many of 
the great cities clamoured for him. At Middleburgh and 
Amsterdam the people grew unruly. De Witt had been 
forced to consent to William’s rise. He exacted from him 
an oath that he would observe the abolition of the 
Stadtholdership, and sent him to the head of the army. 
Hope revived; Holland hailed the Prince their preserver. 

De Witt suspecting negotiations between England and 


170 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


France, had made a treaty with Spain that broke off the 
last threads that bound the Triple Alliance together. 
Charles seized the opportunity to induce his Cabinet to 
declare war on Holland. 

Christopher had watched these proceedings with intense 
interest. He did not pretend to understand why Ashley 
headed the desire for war; it was unlike him to wish to 
ally England with France. Christopher decided that 
politics were very mysterious. 

At home, Charles had introduced his Declaration of 
Indulgence, permitting religious freedom. It had passed 
the Houses, and was greeted with murmurous opposition. 
The Duke of York was publicly received into the Roman 
Catholic Church. London was uneasy. The sudden closing 
of the Exchequer caused a stir, and more unrest. 

Now it was late summer, and Charles was coming to 
Bevan Court on a visit. Lady Frances was acting hostess, 
and Christopher had been sent on in advance to have all in 
readiness. 

An exclamation from him made Lady Fanny start, and 
open her eyes. 

"‘The De Witts have been murdered!” 

Lady Frances sat up. 

“Chris!” 

Christopher referred to the letter. 

“Roderick writes as though ’twere a natural happening! 
Oddsblood, the man has the heart of a fish! . . . ‘Yester¬ 
day the news was brought to us thatt Jan and Cornelius 
De Witt have been done to Death by the Mob at the Hague. 
Soe Perish all His Highness’ Enemies!’ . . . Zounds!” 
Christopher crumpled the parchment in his hand. 
“Murder! Foul murder! I wonder ...” 

“What do you wonder? Not ...” 

“I wonder what part the Prince played in this dastardly 
deed.” 

“Oh, no, Chris! No, no!” 

“Roderick says no more than that ‘so perish all His 
Highness his enemies.’ Great Heavens!” 

Lady Frances took the letter from him. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


171 


“May I see?” 

“Oh, you may read it! That I should have such a 
brother!” 

She spread open the sheets on her knee. 

. . All over the Country the People call for a 
Stadtholder. At Rotterdam and Amsterdam they Growe 
unruly. The Prince His Oathe to De Witt absolved by 
Deathe, taketh the Government into His Owne Hands. 
Nowe he at last hath His Rightfull Place, after soe Many 
Yeares Patient Waiting. Nowe he hath Command over 
All Things, and no Pensionary to Oppose Him. He Hath 
Grate Plannes for the Repulsion of the Impudent French¬ 
man, the which, Guided by His Supreme Courage and 
Steadfast Purpose, He Goes shortly to put into Action. 
God Aide and Bless His Endeavours! He is a very 
Upright, Grate Prince, Wise beyond His Yeares, Knoweing 
not Despair. We of His Household, seeing Him Day by 
Day Striving always for His Country, Knowe howe Iron 
is His Will, howe Grate His Truthe. I do Counsel You, my 
Brother, to Leave thatt Libertine His Service, and to Join 
me Here, under the Prince His Glorious Standard. This 
do I Implore You to do for the Love I Bare You, which 
Love Hateth to see You Working for the Truthless Servant 
of a King who Lacks Honoure, Loyalty, and all those 
Things thatt a King should have ...” 

“Bah!” snapped Christopher. “What more?” 

“There’s little else. The rest concerns you alone.” She 
handed him the parchment which he thrust angrily into his 
pocket. 

Lady Frances sat with her chin in her hand. 

“So that is what Roderick says? Warnings, Chris, 
warnings!” 

“Ay! You are all very anxious for me to quit my lord! 
And I will not! I know him as you do not! And I hold 
these warnings in contempt!” 

She sighed. 

“Don’t eat me, Chris. ’Tis very seldom that I speak to 
you on this subject after all!” 

He took her hand quickly, kissing it. 


172 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Forgive me! I had no right to speak to you like that! 
You are so good to me! so very good!” 

“Oh, nonsense!” She patted his shoulder. “I wonder 
what they think of this in London? The news will have 
reached them by now. I would give much to know the 
inner workings of it.” 

“Would you? I had rather not know. It must have 
been at the Prince’s instigation.” 

“It may have been. De Witt was a block in his path. 
Therefore it was right that De Witt should go.” 

“Right? How can you say that?” 

Lady Frances’ eyes were narrowed. 

“It seems to me that De Witt’s day has been ended some 
time since. The one man who might save Holland is 
Nassau. We have seen how he was hampered by De Witt’s 
cautious vetoes. Well, down with De Witt.” 

“I cannot agree!” 

“Quite right, dear boy. I hope you never will agree.” 

He stared at her. 

“You hope—but why?” 

“Because it would mean that you had acquired a callous 
heart, even as all we who have—never mind! Let’s take 
the news to Jasper.” 

They walked slowly back to the house. 

The tidings reached my lord at Bevan House as he was 
in the act of penning an amorous note to Lady Crewe. 

His servant came hurriedly into the room. He had been 
with Roxhythe since his boyhood, and he was permitted 
these licenses. 

“My lord, the De Witts are dead! Murdered!” 

John felt more than a casual interest in the news. He 
had several times seen the Grand Pensionary. 

Roxhythe looked up. 

“What of it?” 

“But, my lord—!” 

Roxhythe went back to his writing. 

“You disturb me.” 

He went later to Whitehall and found it seething with 
the tale. He was very bored. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


173 


The visit to Bevan Court was in every way successful. 
The King was feted and feasted most extravagantly. 
Mademoiselle de Keroualle, now Duchess of Portsmouth, 
and mistress-in-chief, came in his train, and was pleased 
to be very fascinating; the Duke of Monmouth, in high 
spirits, could talk of nothing but the prospect of his 
journey to Holland next year at the head of the English 
troops. 

Christopher lived the few days in a positive whirl of 
excitement. He was very busy, for Roxhythe paid no 
attention to any of the arrangements, but this did not 
trouble him. He was helping to entertain the most gracious 
King in the world; he had kissed this King’s hand; the 
King had spoken to him several times; his cup was full. 

All through the winter Roxhythe continued to make 
trifling and spasmodic love to Lady Crewe. Christopher 
watched, troubled. He saw that Millicent was taking his 
master very seriously, and he was sorry, for he knew that 
Roxhythe was beginning to weary of her. He dared not 
speak to him on the subject, but he was a tender-hearted 
boy, and he wished that my lord would amuse himself with 
someone older, and more accustomed to the game. He 
saw that Millicent was not treating it as a game any longer. 
He saw also that Sir Henry Crewe was less and less at his 
wife’s side, and had begun to look at her coldly. He 
wondered how it would end. 

Meanwhile, great changes were taking place in England. 
Ashley, now the Earl of Shaftesbury, was Chancellor, and 
led the Cabinet. The long recess of Parliament still went 
on. The Country party was more than ever opposed to 
the Court party and dissension was growing apace. 

From Harcourt Christopher learned that the Declaration 
of Indulgence was becoming more and more unpopular. 
War with Holland was imminent; the King continued to 
amuse himself. 

Roxhythe still ignored the universal unrest. Christopher 
was more than ever sure that he had no interest in politics, 
was of no party, and was above all the petty jealousies and 
intrigues that went on daily. Now and then he went to 


174 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Paris, but mostly he was at Whitehall, pursuing his 
brilliant course. Christopher no longer puzzled over these 
visits to France. Roxhythe had assured him that his vague 
fears were groundless; he trusted Roxhythe. 

And so the year crept out, and the New Year was upon 
them. 


Book III 
QUO VADIS? 




CHAPTER I 


Whitehall 

“Never was there a man so beset!” 

Roxhythe looked amusedly across at his master. 

“Was there not, Sir?” 

“Never.” Charles spoke gloomily. “I swear I do not 
know why ever I came back to such an importunate, 
ungrateful people.” 

They were in the King’s private closet. It was late 
autumn and chilly. A fire burned in the wide grate and 
the room was stuffy. One was aware of the presence of 
dogs. 

Charles crossed his legs and went on speaking. 

“They would not have my Declaration of Indulgence; 
they insisted on an act which should prevent Catholics from 
holding office under the Crown. So I let them have their 
Test Act, thus enraging my brother. I thought to have 
some peace. But no. Clifford resigns his office because he 
cannot subscribe to the Test. And now they clamour and 
debate over James his second marriage. Mordieu, what 
a thing it is to be King!” He sighed. 

“The Duke would do well to consider,” said Roxhythe. 
“A marriage with the Catholic Mary of Este will only 
serve to gain him more unpopularity.” 

“So I think. Next the Commons will demand his 
exclusion from the succession. I see it coming very plainly. 
He is so unwise . . . And he was a damned good 
admiral,” he added with another sigh. “Odso! It meant 
so little. He might have been as Catholic as he pleased 
to himself if only he would have conformed outwardly 
to the Test. However, he’d none of it, and gave up his 
post. And now he is so chafed and irritable that he plagues 
all and sundry and affects them against him. He won’t 
listen to my sage counsel; he goes his own foolish way. I 

177 


178 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


know the Commons will demand his exclusion sooner or 
later. And then what’s to do?” 

Roxhythe knew that on this one point his master was 
likely to remain adamant. He had some affection for his 
brother. 

“I really don’t know, Sir. I doubt you’ll manage to 
confound the Commons when that time comes—if it 
comes.” 

“Oh, it will come, sure enough, unless he mends his 
ways, which he will not.” 

“Then you will skilfully circumvent the Commons,” 
smiled Roxhythe. 

“But what unpleasantness! What fatigue!” said Charles. 
“I was not born for this strenuous life.” He shut his 
eyes wearily. Then he opened them again. “David, I am 
satiated with Ashlev.” 

Ashley now led the Cabinet. 

Roxhythe laughed softly, 

“You were like to be that, Sir. Tis a dull dog.” 

“My dear David, ’tis the wickedest dog in Christendom— 
all on a sudden. He must go.” He said this quite calmly. 

“Very well,” said Roxhythe. “Though I mislike the 
idea of Ashley’s hand against us.” 

“I cannot help it. He must go. He opposes me at every 
turn while pretending to aid me.” 

“And so?” 

“And so I have another man in mind.” Charles looked 
at him quizzically. 

“I might guess his name, Sir,” drawled the favourite. 

“You might, Davy, but I think none other would.” 

“Perhaps not. Doth he hail from Yorkshire?” 

Charles nodded. 

“If you ever go over to the opposition, Davy, I shall be 
undone. You would foresee all my intentions. Do you 
like my choice?” 

“Osborne,” pondered Roxhythe. “A tool. Therefore 
untrustworthy.” 

“I had thought of that. He must be bribed.” 

“So others may think.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


179 


“Davy, why will you always play the pessimist? You 
try your best to dishearten me!” 

My lord rose, and walked over to the window. 

“My heart’s not in it, Sir.” 

Charles stirred uneasily. 

“In what, Roxhythe?” 

“In all this bribing and duping and double-dealing.” 

“Why, David, do you then yearn to tread the straight and 
narrow path?” 

Roxhythe stood silent, gazing out of the window. There 
was a hint of bitterness in the cool eyes; even a little 
sadness. 

Charles studied his profile concernedly. 

“What is it, Davy?” he asked gently. 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“I was just thinking, Sir. Perhaps we were happier in 
the old days, across the water.” 

“We plotted then and bribed,” said Charles quickly. 

“It was rather different. Then we were a few against the 
world. We had only ourselves to think of. Now we have 
the whole of Britain depending on us, and we plot and 
trick, and lower her honour.” 

“Davy, I do her no harm! Surely you have seen that? 
You did not like the Treaty of Dover, but what ill has 
come of it?” 

Roxhythe shrugged. 

“Naught save the lowering of the King his honour.” 

Charles bit his thick underlip. 

Roxhythe continued, in that same level, passionless 
voice. 

“I believe I have a desire to run straight once more, Sir. 
Sometimes I think I would give much to be with my 
regiment again—no intriguer, but just a soldier.” 

“David!” The King’s eyes were full of pain. “You 
think that?” 

The smile crossed Roxhythe’s lips again. 

“Until I remember you, Sir.” 

The King flung out his hand. 

“Ah!—and then?” 


180 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“And then I know that had I to choose again I would 
follow you.” He came back to the King’s chair, and knelt. 
“Don’t let this distress you, Sir. These are but idle regrets, 
that are not even regrets. I am your man until I die, or 
until I fall.” 

Charles’ hand was on his shoulder. 

“Roxhythe, what is this talk of falling?” 

“I hardly know, Sir, save that no man trusts my word. 
They suspect my every movement. Because of the Dover 
treaty, which they guess at.” 

“Can you think that I would ever desert you?” 

“Not I, Sir. I am turned pessimist to-day. I do crave 
your pardon.” 

Charles pressed his shoulder. He was troubled. 

“Regrets—regrets. I did not think you had any, 

Roxhythe.” 

My lord rose, shaking back the heavy curls of his peruke. 

“Nor have I, Sir. ’Tis the autumn dampness has entered 
my bones. Forget it! I chose long ago which path I 
should tread, and I’ve no regrets. I would not lose your 
friendship for all the world.” 

Charles was still troubled. 

“Which path you would tread . . . What mean you, 
David?” 

“Once I thought them one and the same path. Then 
they diverged, and I followed you. The choice lay between 
King and Country.” 

“It was a struggle then?” 

Roxhythe hesitated. 

“A little, Sir. But I decided to kiss my hands to Country, 
and here am I! ” 

“And you are happy, Roxhythe?” 

“Despite these moments of gloom, Sir, yes. I have all 
a man wants; money, power, the King his favour.” 

“And friends?”’ 

“Say rather popularity, Sir.” 

“No; friends.” 

Roxhythe was silent for a moment. 

“Then, Sir, not counting yourself, one. Perhaps two.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


181 


“Who are they?” 

“My fair cousin Frances, and my secretary.” 

“A strange couple. They are all you can name?” 

“They are all.” 

Charles nodded slowly. 

“You sacrificed much for me, eh, David?” 

Roxhythe’s egotism leapt to the fore. 

“No. I gained all. I have everything. Friends? Bah! 
A name, no more. Not a doubt on it but those sycophants 
below,” he waved a contemptuous hand, “would not 
hesitate to call me that.” 

“Yet you said you had but one?” 

“Two. The rest hate me covertly. I am too powerful.” 

Again Charles nodded. 

“You do not seek to make them like you. I think you 
are foolish, Roxhythe.” 

“Maybe. They do not understand me, and for that 
reason distrust me.” 

Charles smiled irrepressibly. 

“Why, I do not think that many men trust me,” he said. 
“But all men love me.” 

Roxhythe swept a bow. 

“Sire, I am no Stuart.” 

“No, you are Roxhythe, which is perhaps even better. 
Mordieu! The great Roxhythe! A propos, David, what’s 
this I hear took place at Jeremy’s?” 

Roxhythe sat down. He drew out his comfit-box. 

“Yes, it was diverting,” he admitted. 

“Tell me your version. I heard it from Sedley yesterday, 
but I’d sooner have it from your own lips.” 

“What did Sedley say? I hardly know what happened 
at the beginning.” 

The King chuckled. 

“Oh, Sedley was full of the tale! He tells me that that 
young secretary of yours was at Jeremy’s on Thursday, and 
fell to gaming with Fortescue. Sedley draws a picture of 
them both in their cups. Then Fortescue speaks sneeringly 
of the great Roxhythe, and the next thing they knew was 
that his face was all dripping wine, and young Dart was 


182 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


half across the table in a black fury. Sedley falls 
a-laughing at this point, but I gather that the two young 
cockerels were held apart by main force, and Dart was 
spluttering out challenges. It seems the rest of the party 
enjoyed the situation vastly, and there was great uproar. 
Fortescue—Sedley tells me he was most unsteady on his 
legs—hiccuped out his challenge, and called on Digby to 
second him. Then the pother was that no one liked to be 
embroiled in a quarrel against my Lord Roxhythe. So 
more uproar. Dart called on Fletcher to serve him. 
Fletcher thinks himself best out of that boys’ quarrel. 
Others were of his opinion. So then we have young Dart 
offering to fight the whole room, and Fortescue drinking 
more Burgundy to steady himself. Sedley says by now the 
whole room was in a roar, and the most of them arguing 
what was to be done. Then—Sedley is very fine at this 
point—the door opened. In strolled the unwitting cause 
of all the turmoil: Lord Roxhythe. He was becomingly 
languid; he desired to know the reason of all the noise. 
Six people explain it to him. My lord looks round with 
interest. Fletcher tells him that no one will second the 
children. My lord is pained. He looks at Fortescue. 
‘You must apologize,’ says he. ‘No,’—hiccup—‘Be— 
damned an I will!’ ‘Then you must apologize,’ says my 
lord, turning to his secretary. Dart was not so far gone in 
his cups. ‘Never!’ says he. ‘Then I will apologize,’ says 
my lord. ‘Your pardon, gentlemen, for being the cause of 
so much trouble.’ Then Sedley grows incoherent. Tell 
me the rest, Roxhythe.” 

Roxhythe touched his lips with his handkerchief. 

“My young Chris was mighty valiant. He sneered. 
‘If a glass of wine in the face is not enough,’ says he, and 
left an elegant pause. Fortescue caught him up. ‘No— 
damme—,’ says he. ‘I’ll fight you!’ Chris bowed. I have 
a fleeting suspicion that he emulates my style. ‘I am 
relieved,’ says he. ‘Mr. Fletcher, again I ask: will you 
serve me?’ Fletcher nodded. ‘Who’s to serve Fortescue?’ 
asks that rogue Sedley. Then they all looked uncomfort¬ 
able, and shuffled. I conceived that it was time to 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


183 


introduce a light note. I made my best leg to Fortescue, 
who was hanging on to the table. ‘Sir,’ says I, T shall be 
honoured to second you.’ He had arrived at the polite 
stage. He returned my bow, and managed not quite to 
fall over. ‘Sir,’ says he, ‘I thank you. Y—You’re a—g— 
gentleman!’ 

“My Chris was in such a rage that he was fit to slay me 
there and then. He turned on his heel and slammed out of 
the room. I went away. 

“And there the matter really ended. I was hoping for an 
amusing duel, but evidently Fortescue was talked to very 
seriously. At all events he visited me next day, all the 
pot-valiance knocked out of him. Odso, but he was 
ashamed! He had come to offer me his apologies! He 
had not known what he was saying; he begged I would 
excuse him. Then he grew very red, and told me that he 
could not have me as a second in the circumstances. So I 
sent for Chris. Fortescue was all for fighting, but I made 
them shake hands. That is all. My name is now safe. 
He smiled a little. 

“No wonder it is the talk of town!” cried Charles. 
“Oddsblood, I would I had been there!” Then he became 
grave. After a moment he said: “Roxhythe, this Dutch war 
is becoming vastly distasteful to my people.” 

Roxhythe was amused. 

“Now what ails you?” demanded Charles. “Is it a 
laughing matter?” 

“Certainly not. I laughed at the sudden change of topic. 
And have you but just discovered that the people do not 
like it?” 

“No. They grow hot. What is more to the point is 
that the Commons also grow hot. I think I must have a 
respite.” 

“How?” 

“I have had enough of Parliament,” said Charles, looking 
at him. “For the present.” 

“Prorogation!” smiled Roxhythe. “I admire your con¬ 
summate daring. Sir.” 


CHAPTER II 


The Husband 

Lady Crewe was disconsolate. Out of the corner of her 
eye she watched my Lord Roxhythe paying his respects to 
Mile. Charlotte d’Almond. Charlotte was of the Duchess of 
Portsmouth’s household, something of a virago, but 
undoubtedly fascinating. Lady Crewe hated her cordially. 
Lady Crewe sat alone, playing with her fan. Presently 
Mr. Dart appeared. His hostess, Fanny Montgomery, 
greeted him with affection. She told him to make himself 
useful. So he went across the room to Millicent’s side 
and swept her a bow. 

“All alone, Lady Crewe?” 

She forced a smile. 

“No, Mr. Dart; you are here.” 

Christopher was fond of Millicent. He sat down beside 
her. 

“Shall we stay on this very pleasing couch, or shall we 
dance?” he asked. 

“I—I don’t think I will dance, thank you,” she answered. 
She % was young, and she did not conceal her emotions 
well. 

Christopher glanced round the room. 

“All the world is here to-night,” he remarked. “What a 
gathering! I don’t see Sir Henry?” 

“He is here,” she said listlessly. “Gaming belike.” 

A year ago Sir Henry Crewe was never from his wife’s 
side. Christopher regarded Roxhythe across the room with 
tightened lips. He attempted another remark. 

“It is quite an age since we last saw each other, Lady 
Crewe. I looked for you at the Coventry rout last week 
but someone said you were in the country. Was that so?” 

“No,” she answered. “I was not well. I do not think 
town air agrees with me. I tire so easily.” 

184 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


185 


Time was, reflected Christopher, when this had not been 
so. Her ladyship’s cheeks had been rosy then, and less 
thin. 

“Why, I am sorry!” he said. “You must make your 
husband take you to the country for a while, though I 
vow we should miss you sadly.” 

Lady Crewe was not attending. A lazy, cynical voice 
reached Christopher’s ears. He turned sharply. Lord 
Roxhythe stood beside them. 

“My very dear Millicent! I had not seen you till this 
moment. Pray where have you been?” He kissed her 
hand. Christopher observed how the colour flooded her 
face. 

“You have been otherwise engaged, my lord,” she 
replied. “I have been here some while.” 

Christopher saw that he was not wanted. He faded 
away. Roxhythe took his seat. 

“Child,” he said, “where are all your roses?” 

“Am I so pale?” she smiled. “Perhaps I have lost my 
rouge.” 

“Evidently,” he said. “And what ails you?” 

Her eyes were troubled. 

“My lord .... my lord . . . .” 

“But why so aloof?” 

The coaxing tone brought the tears to her lashes. 

“David—I am very unhappy.” 

He rose. 

“My dear, we must examine this more closely. I know 
a room where we shall not be disturbed.” 

“Oh, no!” she cried. “Indeed, I must not!” 

“Must not?” 

“You—you know it is not seemly for me to be seen so 
much—with you. My—my husband—” 

“Fiend seize your husband. Come!” 

“I ought not—I ought not—” Even as she said it she 
rose and laid her hand on his arm. Together they went out. 

Roxhythe led her into a small, dimly lighted parlour. 
He shut the door, and took her in his arms. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” 


186 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


For a moment she tried to free herself; then her hands 
clung to his broad shoulders. 

“David, it is wrong! I—I am not this kind of woman! 
God help me, I wish I had never met you!” The cry was 
broken. 

Roxhythe bent his head till his lips met hers. It was 
Mrs. Diana Shelton who had called Roxhythe’s kiss “divine 
intoxication.” 

“Confess! Tis a lie?” 

“No, no! Indeed, I wish it!” 

He kissed her again. 

“You do not love me?” 

“Oh, yes!—No! oh, what am I saying?” She broke 
away from him to a chair. “Before I—met you—before 
you—made love to me—I thought I cared so much for 
Henry. Now—now we hardly speak. You fill all my 
thoughts, and he looks at me—as though he hated me. 
I'm no court beauty. I cannot—play at love as they do. 
’Tis—not in my nature.” 

My lord knelt at her side, holding both her hands. 

“Do you then care so much for Henry? Am I nothing?” 

“Have I not told you? Oh, my heart is nigh breaking! 
You do not really love me; you only—pretend—and it 
means so much to me. I’m a fool; a silly, hysterical miss! 
I—” She tried to laugh, but her voice broke, and she 
buried her face on his shoulder, sobbing. 

Roxhythe stared over her head at the wall. His expres¬ 
sion was rather curious. Suddenly he bent over the bowed 
figure, clinging so desperately to his hands. 

“My child, you distress yourself unduly. How old are 
you?” 

“T-twenty-one. Why—why do you ask?” 

My lord smiled whimsically. 

“Twenty-one. And I am—forty-two.” 

She lifted her head. 

“What of it?” 

“I seem to be rather too old for you, dear.” 

“David—my lord—I do not—understand.” 

“No? I think our little comedy has played itself out.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


187 


Slowly she drew herself away from him. 

“You—call it comedy. I—have another name for it. 
Mayhap ’twas indeed a—comedy to you. To me—to me 
-” she stopped, twisting her fingers. 

“Oh, no!” said my lord, calmly. “You delude your¬ 
self, my dear. It was a pretty farce, and perhaps you 
were a little dazzled. But that is all.” 

“You—make me—hate you.” 

“Why, that is as it should be.” 

“You—you made love to me; you—dazzled—me, and 
now you are tired of the—farce—you cast me off.” 

“Not a whit. I am not tired of it. I think you are.” 

She shook her head. Slow tears were creeping down 
her cheeks. 

“I love you. I cannot let you go.” 

“Well, my dear, I do n^t see how you are to keep the 
both of us on a tether if you take the matter so 
seriously.” 

“I do not want both.” 

“Then choose your husband, my child.” 

“I can’t, I can’t! I want you!” It was the cry of a child. 
Roxhythe bit his lip. 

“It will pass.” 

She raised her head. 

“Are you saying—these things—for my sake, or is it— 
because of—Charlotte d’Almond?” 

“Oh lud!” said my lord. He rose to his feet. “Preserve 
me!” 

She also rose. 

“It is not? You love me, as you’ve so often vowed?” 

Roxhythe looked at her serenely. 

“My dear, I do not think I love anyone.” 

Tragedy was in her blue eyes, and uncomprehending 
hurt. 

“You thought me—just a—cheap woman!” 

“No.” 

“Then—then—Oh heavens, how dare you humiliate 
me so? And I—and I—please take me back to the ball- 

f 55 

room! 



188 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


She stepped forward into the full light of the candles, 
erect, outraged. Roxhythe eyed her critically. 

“Child, you must dry the tears.” 

In spite of her forced calm something sparkled on the 
end of her long lashes. 

“Oh, tut, tut, Millicent! You will forget all this mad¬ 
ness. Come, let me wipe away the tears.” 

Millicent pushed him from her with hands that trembled. 

“No! Please—don’t try to—be kind to me! I cannot 
bear it. I have been in heaven and hell this past year, 
and now—and now—” She choked back a sob. “You 
were—very cruel, my lord. You made me play at love 
with you, and then—when I am no longer playing—you 
turn away, and—call it—a pretty comedy. And you talk 
to me—as if you were—my father!” 

“Which I almost might be,” remarked his lordship. 
“My dear, you are too young for the game. I ought to 
have known it. I am sorry. Now won’t you let me dry 
your tears?” 

His voice was very gentle; all his fascination was to 
the fore. It swept over Millicent and would not be gain¬ 
said. Pride was as nothing before it; at that moment she 
felt that only one thing mattered, and that was that he 
should not leave her. She allowed him to draw her closer, 
and to wipe her eyes with his scented handkerchief. A 
small pulse in her throat was throbbing madly; he was 
so inexpressibly dear, so strong, so wonderful. The tears 
welled up afresh; she heard him speak through a haze 
of misery. 

“Dear child, I am not worth it. I am only an interlude.” 

“That is all—to you. Oh, you are utterly, utterly 
ruthless! I amused you for the time, so—you have— 
broken my heart—for your pleasure, and brought me— as 
low as this! I was so happy before you came! So 
happy.” 

“You will be happy again,” said Roxhythe philosophi¬ 
cally. “Hearts are easily mended. Tell that husband of 
yours to take you away for a time.” 

“My husband! We scarcely speak! He despises me! 




THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


189 


He thinks me—what I am—a cheap, faithless woman!” 

“It seems your husband is a fool. There! The tears 
are gone?” 

“Take me back to the ballroom, please. I—I have been 
mad. What will—Henry think—if he finds me gone? Oh, 
please take me back.” 

Roxhythe smiled faintly. 

“Yes. I did not think the passion was real. Console 
yourself, my dear. ’Tis Henry you love.” He held out 
his arm. 

The door opened. 

“Just as I thought!” The words came furiously, hissed 
across the room. With his back to the door, hands clenched 
at his sides, stood Sir Henry Crewe. 

Millicent sprang away from Roxhythe’s side, her cheeks 
flaming. Roxhythe himself regarded the intruder pensively. 

“Blue and rose-pink . . .” he murmured. “Marvellous!” 

Crewe walked forward, his dark velvet cloak hushing 
against the table as he brushed past. 

“I have not sought you out to talk of my clothes, Lord 
Roxhythe!” he said. He did not glance in his wife’s 
direction. 

“No?” answered Roxhythe. He met the angry young 
eyes amusedly. “What then?” 

Crewe controlled his voice with difficulty. He was very 
pale, but his eyes burnt. 

“I have come to tell you that my friends will wait on 
yours, Lord Roxhythe!” 

“Thank you very much,” said Roxhythe. “But may I 
point out to you that this is a somewhat inopportune 
moment?” 

“I think not! I could scarce have chosen a more fitting 
time!” He laughed bitterly. “I trust I make myself 
clear?” 

“Not at all,” said Roxhythe. “I am at a loss.” 

“You are singularly dense if you do not understand 
me! Things have come to a pretty pass that you so 
brazenly take my wife apart! Is that explanation 
enough?” 


190 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Roxhythe stared at him in great hauteur. Then he 
turned to Millicent and bowed. 

“Permit me to conduct you back to the ballroom, my 
dear.” 

Crewe flung himself between them. 

“Lady Crewe can stay to hear what I have to say! She 
will not again require your escort!” 

My lord’s voice became a shade more languid. 

“My good youth, you rave. You have my permission 
to stand back.” 

Few had ever dared to withstand that note. Sir Henry 
stood firm. 

“’Tis you who shall stand back, sir! You shall not 
touch my wife!” 

Millicent clasped and unclasped her hands. She was 
very near to breaking point. 

“You make a very fine melodramatic hero,” said Rox¬ 
hythe. “But you forget with whom you have to deal.” 

“You might be the devil himself and I’d not let you 


|55 


pass! 

“Child’s talk,” said my lord. His hand descended on 
Crewe’s shoulder and gripped hard. He gave a sudden 
twist, and Crewe fell back with a smothered exclamation. 
Roxhythe took Millicent’s cold hand in his. 

“I’ll return to you,” he informed the furious young 
man. “Open the door.” 

“Perhaps it is as well that Lady Crewe should with¬ 
draw,” sneered Sir Henry. He flung the door wide. 

Roxhythe did not answer him. He led Millicent, tear¬ 
less now, a creature of ice, to the deserted hall. 

“Will you wait here, child? I’ll send my cousin to 
you.” 

Her lips moved. 

“Oh—no! I cannot! I-” 

“My dear, you are in no fit state to go back to the 
ballroom. Sit down.” 

She sank down, unresisting. Roxhythe kissed her hand. 
“Let me re-assure you, sweetheart; there will be no scandal. 
You can trust my cousin.” He strolled into the ballroom. 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


191 


Lady Frances was not dancing. When she saw Roxhythe 
she came quickly towards him. 

“Where is Lady Crewe?” 

“I want to take you to her. That young fool of a hus¬ 
band came plunging in upon us, and she is nigh fainting 
with fright.” 

“Good God, Roxhythe! In my house! Could you not 
be decent for one evening? Where is the child?” 

“In the hall. May I solicit your kindness for her? 
She should go home.” 

Lady Fanny swept out. Roxhythe, following more 
leisurely, saw her bend over the drooping figure * in the 
chair. He half smiled, and went back to the little parlour. 

Frances took the girl’s hands. 

“My dear! Will you come upstairs with me?” 

The great shamed eyes looked up. 

“I—think—I had best—go home,” whispered Millicent. 

Frances drew her to her feet. 

“Presently, dear. Come with me now and tell me all 
about it.” 

“Lady Frances—I am indeed sorry—to be the cause of 
a—disturbance in your house. I-” 

“Nonsense! Come, we shall be private in my room.” 

She bore the girl off to her boudoir, and put her into a 
chair. 

“There! Poor little thing! Tell me what has hap¬ 
pened.” 

Millicent bowed her head. 

“I’ve been so wicked—I suppose you know. And to-day 
—I let—Lord Roxhythe—take me to another room—and— 
and—my husband found us—and—oh, heavens, what must 
you think of me?” 

“Why, that you are a silly child! No, no, don’t cry! 
There’s no harm done. My cousin will see to it that 
there is no scandal. But mercy on us, what induced you 
to play with Roxhythe, of all men?” 

“I love him,” answered Millicent dully. 

Lady Frances opened her eyes to their widest. 

“Love—my dear, foolish girl, you cannot.” 



192 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I love him. And it’s all over—all over.” 

“And a good thing too!” thought my lady. But she 
did not say that. She put her arms round Millicent. 

“Won’t you tell me everything, dear?” 

The girl flushed. 

“You are very, very kind, Lady Frances, but—oh, I 
expect you know all there is to know about me!” 

“My child, I have seen Roxhythe often at your side, and 
I confess I have wondered what you were at—playing with 
fire.” 

“I was not playing! Oh, at first, three years ago, yes. 
No one minded; my husband thought nothing of it. But 
lately—I have been so—unhappy, and when he was with 
me—so very happy! And he meant nothing; he did not 
love me. It was a—game. I suppose any other woman 
would have known, but I—I—oh, I think my heart will 
break!” 

“I am quite sure it will not,” replied Lady Frances. 
“ ’Tis all midsummer madness. How could you think 
Roxhythe was in earnest? Was there no one to warn you?” 

“No. There is only Henry—and now he—hates me. 
What shall I do?” 

“Start afresh,” said Fanny briskly. “Roxhythe is not 
worth one tear-drop. You must forget him, and play no 
more with fire.” 

“Forget! Ah, my lady, it is easy to speak so. I love 
him! I love him so much that were he to lift one finger 
I would go with him—anywhere!” 

Lady Frances nodded over the bowed head. 

“Well, my dear, he’ll lift no finger. He lives for himself 
alone. This is not his first affaire .” 

Millicent shuddered. 

“I thought he really cared for me. I knew there were— 
other women—hut-” 

Lady Frances proceeded to be cruel for kindness’ sake. 

“I have known Roxhythe for—1 won’t say how many 
years—and 1 know how much heart he hath. That is none. 
He has fascinated you until you think that you love him. 
But you do not. Ah, no, my dear, you do not!” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 193 

MiRicent was silent. After a moment Fanny patted her 
shoulder. 

“Come! Cheer up! Oh, I know ’tis hard, but you must 
bear a brave front. Never let him see that he has hurt 
you.” 

“You do not know, Lady Frances.” 

Fanny laughed irrepressibly. 

“Why, do you think I have not been in love scores of 
times with those whom I should not have loved? Child, I 
have experienced all your feelings, and I assure you that 
you will recover.” 

“I wish that I were dead!” 

“Nonsense! You are over-wrought to-night; to-morrow 
you will think differently. I am going to send you home 
now, and—if I may—I will come and see you in a few days’ 
time.” 

“You—you will not care to. There will be some dread¬ 
ful scandal—oh, I wish that I had never come to town!” 

“There’ll be no vestige of scandal, my dear. Trust 
Roxhythe to see to that.” 

“Oh, yes, yes! They are going to fight, and one of them 
will be killed—all for me who am—worthless!” 

“I’ll wager my best necklet no one is killed,” said Lady 
Frances. 

“Henry is so angry! I have never seen him look so 
terrible! He—he will do my lord some injury.” 

“Alas! There’s no likelihood of such a thing happen¬ 
ing!” said Fanny, tartly. 


CHAPTER III 


The Challenge 

Roxhythe shut the door. 

“And now what is it?” 

Crewe was standing by the fire. At my lord’s words he 
swung round. 

“It is this, sir! I’ll not have my wife’s name dis¬ 
honoured by such as you! For nearly three years it has 
gone on! At first I thought nothing; she had her admirers, 
but she loved me. And then you gradually stole her from 
me, until she thinks of naught save when she shall next be 
with you! Oh, I’m not blind! I’ve watched and waited. 
But to-night I could no longer contain myself! One of 
us dies, my lord!” 

“Very fine,” applauded Roxhythe. “But you make a 
deal out of nothing. Let us say that I fascinated Lady 
Crewe. We played at love, bien sur . Now we have agreed 
to end the game. As to her good name, no harm is like 
to come to that.” 

“No harm, you say? All the town will talk of this. How 
do I know that there is not more between you?” 

The fine lips curled contemptuously. 

“Faith, you have a good opinion of your wife!” said 
Roxhythe. Then he grew grave. “You foolish boy, what 
have you been about all this time? You say you have 
watched us? Then why a-God’s name did you not act? 
By heaven, I would let no man steal my wife’s heart!” 

“If it can be stolen I do not want it! I’ll make no 
effort to win her from you, my lord! She—she has earned 
my contempt! my hatred!” 

“The tragic hero, egad! One would think there was 
more to this affaire than a series of very mild flirtations.” 

“I do think it!” 

“Then you are a foolish child. Strive to be wiser. I 

194 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


195 


suggest you take your wife away, and woo her afresh. 
She will very soon forget me.” 

Crewe gripped a chair-back. His face was white with 
anger. 

“How dare you mock me? One would think that I 
was to blame for all this!” 

“Most undoubtedly you are. Instead of freezing the girl 
you should have shaken her soundly and taken her away. 
Mordieu, you drove her to my arms, with your coldness 
and your scowls!” 

“I thought her above—this kind of intrigue! I—heaven, 
what did I not think her? I have found that she is no 
better than the commonest trull that walks the streets!” 

“La-la! What a fury! I begin to pity your wife.” 

Two hectic spots of colour burned on Sir Henry’s cheeks. 

“We’ll have done, if you please, sir-” 

Roxhythe sighed with relief. 

“Now God be thanked, here’s sense at last!” 

“Will you name your friends?” 

Roxhythe looked him up and down. 

“Oh. You want satisfaction? Bethink you, you’ll 
damage your wife’s reputation as I have not done all this 
time.” 

“I will take care of that, I thank you. Will you name 
your friends?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe. “I will not.” 

It seemed that Crewe was dumbfounded. He stared in 
amazement. 

“You will not? You will not? Am I to call you coward 
then?” 

“My dear boy, you may call me what you will if it eases 
you at all. Roxhythe does not fight with every fly that 
buzzes in his ear.” 

Crewe sent a chair spinning across the room. 

“Yet you will fight me, sir!” 

“If you continue in this vein it seems very likely. I 
counsel you to calm yourself. It is no light matter to fight 
Roxhythe.” 

“I am not afraid! Right is on my side!” 



196 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“But in this world it is more often might that triumphs. 
My tragic hero, do you not realize that I could pink you 
within—one minute?” 

“I care not! And I believe that I can kill you!” 

“The worse for you then. You were as effectually 
damned. You would have to reckon with King Charles. 
I’d not envy you that task. No, I will not fight you.” 

“Then you are a coward! a coward! a coward! All the 
world will call you one!” 

“All the world will laugh at you for your pains, Crewe. 
The world knows what manner of man I am.” 

“You insult me! Am I unworthy of your sword?” 

“By no means. But I do not murder babes.” 

Crewe looked up into the mocking eyes. His hand 
fumbled in the breast of his coat and came out. With one 
laced glove he struck my lord across the face. 

“Is that enough?” he panted. 

The straight brows contracted swiftly. 

“Almost enough to earn you a thrashing at my hands, 
Crewe,” said Roxhythe, a hint of grimness in his smooth 
voice. 

Sir Henry fell back. A sob tore at his throat. 

“My God, are you made of stone? You’ll swallow that 
insult?” 

My lord shrugged. 

“I have already told you; I do not murder babes.” 

“Damn you, am I to strike you again?” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

Crewe’s hand clenched on the glove, twisting it round and 
round. 

“Can I say nothing to move you? What have I done 
that you should scorn to fight me? Do you not owe me 
at least that much?” 

“My good child, no. I have not damaged Lady Crewe’s 
reputation; I am even preventing you from so doing.” 

“I will cry this shame against you! All London shall 
know how you refused to fight! were afraid to fight!” 

4 You would be very ill-advised. You would ruin your 
wife, and make yourself a laughing-stock. Do you think 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


197 


I cannot afford to refuse to fight without injuring mine 
honour?” 

Crewe stood still, seething with rage and impotence. 

“Why will you not fight me? What reason have you?” 

“I thought that I told you that,” said Roxhythe. 

“Bah! ’Tis not from any desire to spare my life, I 
know!” 

“Why then, we will say that it is not my will.” 

“Do you think to put me off with that excuse? You 
treat me as though I were of no account! as though you 
had not ruined my happiness, disgraced my wife!” 

My lord re-arranged his cravat. 

“I’ve no taste for heroics off the stage, my friend.” 

The young man’s breath was coming short and quick. 
His hands trembled; his eyes burned dark in his pale face. 

“Don’t mock at me! You—you goad me to what I will 
not think of! I could kill you where you stand, you 
smiling devil!” 

My lord was still busy with his cravat. He stood with 
his back to Crewe looking into the mirror. 

“Eh bien! Kill me.” 

Crewe swung round on his heel. Up and down the 
room he paced, with white lips and trembling hands. He 
came at last to a standstill, facing my lord. 

“Once more I ask: will you name your friends?” 

Roxhythe studied his reflection pensively. 

“I will not.” 

Crewe was almost hysterical with rage. He tore at his 
sword, wrenching it from the scabbard. 

“You shall fight! If you will not have it in order, it 
shall be here and now! On guard, my lord!” 

Roxhythe gave a finishing touch to his laces, and turned. 

“What have we now? Corbleu! A sword! Am I to 
fling myself on its point?” 

“Draw, curse you!” 

Roxhythe snapped his fingers scornfully. 

“So much for that pretty plaything! I do not fight 
you now or at any time. Body o’ me, am I to fight every 
young cockerel who fancies himself injured by me? Put 


198 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


up your sword and be thankful that I do not choose to 
take offence.” 

The sword clattered to the ground. 

“Devil! Devil!” gasped Sir Henry, and sprang at him. 

There was a short struggle, a strangled oath from Crewe. 
Roxhythe had both the boy’s wrists in a vice-like grip. He 
did not appear to exert himself in the least, but Crewe 
could not break free. The pressure tightened relentlessly. 

“Fool!” said my lord evenly. “I could ruin you ten 
times over for this. What madness has come over you 
that you dare to challenge me in such a fashion?” 

Sir Henry was silent, clenching his underlip hard 
between his teeth. The grip on his wrists was agony. 
Roxhythe looked down at him contemptuously. 

“If you like I will swear that at my hands Lady Crewe 
has received no ill, save, perhaps, a little heartache. Is 
that enough?” 

“No, no! Damn you, let me go! I’ll allow no man— 
to make love to—my wife—and go—unpunished!” 

“I applaud you. But yours would be the punishment 
an I met you.” 

“I’ll take my chance of that! Let go my wrists! Do 
you think I care whether I live or die? Oh, name your 
seconds! Name them!” 

“No.” 

“For God’s sake forget that you are Roxhythe for one 
moment!” 

“It is as well that one of us should remember it.” 

“ ’Sdeath! Are you a creature of flesh and blood? I’ve 
struck you! I have offered you every insult! Is it possible 
that you can still refuse me satisfaction?” 

“In truth, I am very forbearing,” sighed Roxhythe. 

Crewe struggled to be free of him. 

“Then again I call you coward! I’ll never rest until I 
have met you!” 

Roxhythe released him. 

“If you pester me it will be my painful duty to have you 
removed. I repeat: neither now or at any other time will 
I fight you. That is my last word.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


199 


Crewe fell back. The marks of Roxhythe’s fingers were 
on his arms; dry sobs shook him. He collapsed into a 
chair, resting his head in his hands. 

Roxhythe shook out his ruffles. 

The door was opened; Sir Henry heard the snap as it was 
closed again. He was alone. 

Ten minutes later Roxhythe was at Mrs. Carthew’s side, 
drawling witticisms. 

Lady Frances came up with Mr. Fletcher at her elbow. 
She smiled sweetly. 

“Mrs. Carthew, may I present Mr. Fletcher?” 

The lady bowed. 

“Will you dance, Madam?” simpered Fletcher. 

Madam was uncertain. Plainly she liked Roxhythe’s 
company. But her hostess was already engaging his atten¬ 
tion. 

“Thank you, sir.” She was led away. 

Lady Frances sat down beside my lord. 

“Roxhythe, why have you tampered with that poor 
child?” Her voice was very calm. 

“My dear Fanny, need we pursue the subject? I do 
not care to dwell on my mistakes.” 

“You admit that it was a mistake? David, I implore 
you, let it end here!” 

“It ended an hour since. I found myself growing 
paternal.” 

“I am thankful for’t. The girl fancies herself in love 
with you. I pray heaven ’tis but a fancy. I have told her 
what manner of man you are.” 

“Really? What manner of man am I?” 

She disregarded him. 

“David, it was not right; it was not fair. I’d say naught 
if she were a Court miss, versed in these ways. She is 
not. She knew no harm until you came into her life. And 
now—God and you know what harm has been wrought.” 

“None.” 

“That is true, Roxhythe?” 

“As I live. I believe I must always have felt paternal 
towards her. It was a very mild intrigue.” 


200 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Lady Frances heaved a sigh of relief. 

“I feared—she was so very over-wrought—If you say it 
is not so, I believe you. But, oh, David, why? Why try 
to break her poor, foolish little heart? Were there not 
enough women besides her? Women who knew you and 
your ways?” 

“It was her sweet simplicity that attracted me,” said 
Roxhythe. 

“So you broke her for your pleasure. Sometimes I think 
that you are utterly without heart, David.” 

“Mayhap. However, you’ll agree that I am not without 
forbearance when I tell you that for the past hour I have 
been closetted with the husband, refusing to fight him.” 

“Ah! You will not fight him?” 

“Certainly not. Why should I?” 

“I know why you should not! ’Twere Lady Crewe’s 
ruin an you did.” 

“So I thought. Unhappily he did not. He did all in 
his power to provoke me to wrath.” 

“He failed?” 

“Can you ask? I have told him that I will not meet 
him now or at any other time.” 

“David, promise me that you will not go back on that!” 

“I promise.” 

She touched his hand, smiling a little tremulously. 

“You’re not all bad, David. I believe that you are 
sorry for this—mistake.” 

“I regret it with all my heart. The child took me more 
seriously than I knew.” 

Lady Frances dabbed surreptitiously at her eyes. 

“My dear,” said Roxhythe, “if you cry, I shall depart. 
I have had naught but tears and ravings all the evening.” 

“Poor David! Oh me! I should be angry with you, 
I suppose. Somehow I cannot. You had best make love to 
me next time. Then neither of us will be hurt.” 

Roxhythe kissed her hand. 

“Two women there are, Fanny, whom I esteem above all 
others. One is now a memory.” 

Frances looked up. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


201 


“Who was she?” 

“She was Madame.” 

“Madame! Roxhythe, you loved her?” 

“I respected and admired her above all women. The 
other is your sweet self. If ever I love, or have loved a 
woman, you are she.” 

“EIow dear of you!” sighed my lady. “To how many 
women have you said that?” 


CHAPTER IV 


Progression 

At Drury Lane Christopher met Harcourt. They sat 
side by side in the Pit, and during the intervals, exchanged 
confidences. After the play they went together to partake 
of supper. When the dishes had been set before them 
Harcourt shook his head at Christopher. 

“Oh, Chris, you are very wily!” 

Christopher sampled a pasty. 

“Am I? Why?” 

“You led me to think that your master was no plotter.” 

It was a bold attack, but it failed. 

“Nor is he.” Christopher went on with the pasty. 

Harcourt laughed long and low. 

“Why, Chris, have you heard none of the rumours cur* 
rent in town?” 

“I hear a good many lies. Which one is this?” 

“That the King made a treaty with France some time 
back—secretly.” 

“Oh, that!” Christopher was scornful. “I wonder you 
give ear to these rumours, Harcourt.” 

“But my dear boy, men say that it was for that reason 
that we went to war with Holland!” He was watching 
Christopher closely. 

“Men will say anything,” replied Dart. It was a very 
fair imitation of Roxhythe’s style. 

Harcourt’s eyes narrowed. 

“Are you fencing with me, I wonder?” 

Christopher looked up, smiling. 

“Odso! I? No.” 

It was impossible to look into his clear, honest eyes 
and to disbelieve his word. Harcourt was puzzled. 

202 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


203 


“I have heard it said also that Roxhythe worked the 
intrigue. You remember how often he was in Paris?” 

“Ay. And I know why. It was not intrigue.” 

“Oh! Then you do not think that the King allied him¬ 
self with France behind our backs?” 

“Of course I do not. Is that a wild duck?” 

Harcourt pushed the dish towards him. Christopher 
had a fine, healthy appetite. 

“I don’t trust the King,” said Harcourt profoundly. 

“You must always be mistrusting someone, Sydney,” said 
Christopher, amused. “What’s to do now?” 

“Why were we deprived of Shaftesbury? Why have we 
this Danby?” 

“God knows. I don’t meddle in politics. You had best 
ask Shaftesbury himself. I hear he is much with your 
master.” 

Harcourt frowned. 

“Perhaps I shall. Is it possible that you can trust 
Danby?” 

“I hardly know him,” said Christopher. He attacked 
the wild duck with some vigour. 

“But his policy! It is all cringing to the Court.” 

“Is it?” 

“I mislike his distribution of money. It smacks of 
bribery.” 

“Sydney, I recommend this bird—oh, I beg your pardon! 
yes, bribery. Certainly.” 

“Associating with Roxhythe has made you very care¬ 
less,” reproved his friend. 

“I have already told you that I do not meddle in what 
I do not understand. I have abundant faith in His Majesty’s 
discretion—and that is all there is to it. How is Madame 
Harcourt?” 

Harcourt gave it up, and Christopher promptly forgot 
the conversation. 

Later in the week he called on Lady Frances to whom 
he was more than ever attached. 

She greeted him gaily. With her was Lady Crewe, and 
Christopher saw that Millicent had been crying. 


204 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Do I intrude?” he asked, smiling. 

“By no means!” answered Frances. “We are delighted 
to see you, are we not, Millicent? ’ 

Lady Crewe assented. Christopher kissed both their 
hands, and sat down. For a short space he entertained them 
with snatches of gossip. Lady Crewe was palpably ill- 
at-ease and anxious to be gone. Before very long she rose, 
murmuring excuses. 

Lady Frances took her hand. 

“Must you go? Well, I’ll not press you to stay, as I know 
how busy you are. Chris, wait for me! ” She went out with 
Millicent. 

When she returned, Christopher looked at her, one eye¬ 
brow raised inquiringly. 

“Well?” 

“Well what?” asked her ladyship, swinging her brocades. 

“I want to know.” 

“Inquisitive child! Again what?” 

“Is it all at an end between Lady Crewe and Roxhythe?” 

Fanny sat down beside him. 

“Thank heaven, yes! You noticed, then?” 

“Since March he has hardly ever been at her side.” 

“And she mopes and lies awake nights thinking of him. 
It’s a sad coil, Chris.” 

“So I always thought. Lady Crewe looks very sick.” 

Frances tapped her fan against the table. 

“Because she hath a fool for husband! Ton rep, Chris, 
I’ve no patience with the man! Oh, I’ll tell you the whole 
story! You can be discreet, I know. In March I gave a 
ball; you remember? Well, they were both present. 
Roxhythe took Millicent into my little parlour and as 
far as I can gather there was something of a fracas. He 
discovered that he felt fatherly towards her and I suppose 
that he saw that she was too much in earnest for peace and 
quiet. To do him justice, I believe he meant to be kind 
then. They bade one another farewell, or some such 
nonsense, and the child wept very grievously. Roxhythe 
is too fascinating. At that moment in walked the husband! 
Conceive the tableau! Roxhythe brought Millicent to me, 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


205 


and went back to Sir Henry. According to him, Sir Henry 
w T as all for a duel, but he’d have none of it, and left the 
poor man disconsolate. No doubt he was very rude. Since 
then he has eschewed Millicent’s society. Tant mieux. All 
would then have been well had it not been for Crewe’s 
heroics. So Roxhythe calls it. Instead of treating the 
matter tactfully, he first raved at the child, and then turned 
a cold shoulder to her. They scarcely speak; each goes his 
own road, and each is very properly unhappy. 

“I told Sir Henry he was a fool—yes, was it not brave 
of me? —and I told him to take Millicent away and be 
kind to her. Oh, he could have won her back! Instead 
he took her down into the country where she fretted her¬ 
self to death. Now she thinks that she hates Crewe. I’ve 
talked to the man till I am tired, and to no avail. In fact, 
he sent me about my business. And so they go their ways. 
Millicent yearns for Roxhythe, because she wants love and 
Henry seems to have none for her. She sees David at all 
the houses they visit, and in that way the wound is kept 
open.” 

“I see,” said Christopher. “I had some notion of this, 
of course, but I did not know all. One does not question 
Roxhythe.” 

“No,” agreed her ladyship. “One does not. I am very 
worried over this affaire. I must say that since the fracas 
Roxhythe hath not paid much heed to Millicent. But they 
meet everywhere—and Roxhythe is all too magnetic. The 
child fancies herself madly in love with him.” 

“I had not thought that. True, she does not look well, 
and she is less gay, but she scarce glances in Roxhythe’s 
direction.” 

“Oh, she hath her pride!” said Frances. She sighed a 
little, and fell silent. After a few moments she smiled 
reminiscently. 

“Chris, who do you think waited on me yesterday?” 

Christopher shook his head. 

“Who?” 

“Our new Earl!” 

“What, Danby?” 


206 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“No less. Was it not amusing? I barely know him, and 
now, suddenly, he comes to see me!” 

“Perhaps he has long been an admirer,” said Christopher, 
twinkling. 

Her lightening smile flashed out. 

“No such thing. He wanted to prove me concerning 
Jasper’s political sentiments.” 

“Did he? What are his sentiments?” 

“If I knew I do not suppose that I should tell you, my 
dear boy.” 

“As I am aware that you do know, I take that as a very 
decided snub!” 

“ Soit! I’ll tell you: Jasper belongs to no party.” 

“Wise man.” 

“So I think. I mislike this Danby.” 

“That is curious,” remarked Christopher. “I met Har- 
court the other day and he said much the same thing.” 

“Harcourt is very often right. Why does he object to 
Danby?” 

“I forget. Something concerning bribery, I think. He 
mistrusts everyone. Even the King is not above reproach.” 

“Oh?” Lady Frances studied her fan. “Of what does 
he suspect the King?” 

“Some tittle-tattle about selling England to France. Har¬ 
court swallows every wild rumour that is current and firmly 
believes in it. ’Tis the way of his party.” 

“I don’t think that, Chris. Harcourt usually has grounds 
for his suspicions.” 

“Oh, he hath for this one, the war with Holland, and 
Shaftesbury’s resignation.” 

“Ah! By the way, Chris, is not Shaftesbury your 

friend?” 

“Hardly. He was a friend of my father’s and he has 
been very kind to me. Lately I have eschewed his company 
as he cannot meet me without deploring my regard for 
Roxhythe.” 

“I see. That regard is as strong as ever?” 

“An hundred times more strong!” said Christopher 
warmly. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


207 


Lady Frances said nothing. 

Not ten minutes after Christopher had departed, Mont¬ 
gomery came quickly into the room. Lady Frances laid 
down her embroidery. 

“Well, Jasper?” 

Montgomery flung himself into a chair. His face was 
overcast. 

“Has His Majesty been at the House to-day? Is the 
dispute ended?” 

“He has ended it very summarily.” 

“Oh? What has happened?” 

“We are prorogued.” 

Lady Frances started. Her eyes crinkled at the corners; 
she laughed beneath her breath. 

“My dear Jasper, he is a marvellous man!” 

Montgomery shrugged despairingly. 

“It passes all bounds. We were all in a turmoil over 
this question of privilege—Shaftesbury’s doing, of course. 
Had it to do with the Test, or had it not? The Houses were 
at one another’s throats; the King could do naught to 
settle the dispute. So he prorogued us. I tell you, Fanny, 
he’ll o’er-reach himself ere long. First we had Danby 
foisted upon us. By sheer force we made peace with 
Holland. That was February of last year. Did Charles 
recall the troops? No! He gives us shuffling answers. 
Tis my belief he is in French pay. There was dissension. 
Then Danby employs a little bribery, and all is quiet. The 
House turns against Lauderdale, as well it might. There 
was talk of impeachment. More bribery. No more talk of 
impeachment. Next we have the No-Popery cry, Danby 
heading it, the King—ostensibly—seconding. 

“Then the bill offered to the Lords—no person to sit in 
either House, or to hold any office without declaring all 
resistance to the King’s power criminal, or without swear¬ 
ing never to attempt to alter the government of Church or 
State. Pretty, was it not? Well, the opposition arose and 
debated. So we have next a standing order attached: no 
oath should ever be imposed the refusal of which should 
deprive a peer of his seat or vote. Shaftesbury evidently 


208 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


thought it would pass, so what must he do but pick a 
quarrel with the Lords on Privilege. So were we all in a 
turmoil. Whereupon Charles prorogues Parliament. ’Tis 
a scandal, Fanny!” 

She nodded. 

“And the Bill?” 

He pulled down the corners of his mouth. 

“I’ll swear we have heard the last of that.” 

“So it is ended. At least ’tis no triumph for Danby.” 

“No.” He fell silent, watching her moodily. 

“What of Scotland?” asked Frances at length. 

“No decision; matters drift on. ’Pon honour, Fanny, 
the country is in a grievous state! A dissolute King, and 
a sycophant for minister! I had sooner have Shaftesbury 
for all his faults.” 

“Yes . . .” Lady Frances was frowning. “But 
Shaftesbury was not to be trusted.” 

“As we have seen. I think no one is to be trusted save it 
be my Lord Halifax.” 

“Oh, Halifax!” she laughed. “He’ll do naught because 
he cares not enough one way or the other. He hath the 
wit, though.” 

“I have a great opinion of him.. . Who has been here 
to-day?” 

“No one of any moment. Millicent, and later, Chris 
Dart.” 

“Dart. Fanny, have you ever learnt anything from that 
young man?” 

“He knows nothing.” 

“He could throw no light on these suspicions concerning 
the King and France?” 

“He spoke of it to-day. He is quite in the dark.” 

“So Roxhythe was not in any intrigue in that quarter?” 

“ T do not say that.” 

“ivfy dear Fan! If his private secretary knows 
naught-?” 

Lady Frances laid down her needle. 

“Roxhythe works alone. I believe that when Madame 
came to England in /0, it was to negotiate with Charles for 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


209 


Louis. I believe also that Roxhythe was the King’s agent.” 

Montgomery was worried, but still unconvinced. 

“I do admire your intelligence, my dear, and true it is 
that all men eye Roxhythe askance since those rumours 
began. And yet ...” 

“Wait,” said Lady Frances. “My instinct never errs.” 

A servant came into the room, holding the door wide. 

“My Lord Roxhythe, your ladyship.” 

“Speak of the devil . . .!” muttered Montgomery. He 
rose. 

Roxhythe entered. He was dressed in shades of mauve 
and silver. 

Lady Frances laughed at him. 

“Roxhythe, you are like an autumn evening!” she told 
him. 

“Then I am inappropriately clad,” he replied, bowing 
over her hand. “Montgomery, ye seem mighty solemn.” 

“Ay.” Jasper forced a smile. “You’ve heard the latest 

O 59 

news: 

“I believe so. Fitzjoyce is engaged to fight Digby out at 
Islington. On account of Digby’s fair spouse.” 

“I referred to State affairs,” said Montgomery stiffly. 
“The King has prorogued Parliament.” 

“So he has. I remember now.” 

“I fear he will go too far if he continues to behave in 
this wise.” 

“Oh? His move is not approved of?” 

“Hardly.” 

Roxhythe handed Lady Fanny to a seat, and sat down 
beside her. 

“Well, well. He will be distressed.” 

Montgomery spoke boldly. 

“Roxhythe, you possess more influence than does anyone. 
Why do you not exert it?” 

Lady Frances looked quickly from one to the other. 

“Why should I?” asked my lord blandly. 

“ ’Twere in the interests of the country.” 

“Um,” said Roxhythe profoundly. “But I never meddle 
in what concerns me not.” 


210 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Fanny saw the colour rise to her husband’s cheeks. 
She gave a little gurgle of laughter. 

“There’s for you, Jasper! And now we’ll talk of some¬ 
thing else, an it please you.” 

“I’ll not stay then,” answered Montgomery brusquely. 
“I am like to cast a blight on my Lord Roxhythe’s conver¬ 
sation.” He left the room with a slight bow to Roxhythe. 

Lady Frances looked troubled. Roxhythe regarded her 
amusedly. 

“I seem to have upset your worthy husband,” he 
remarked. 


CHAPTER V 


The Most Noble The Marquis 

’76 dawned softly. In England there was no Parliament, 
for in November of ’75 it had refused Charles a grant of 
money; had even dared to insinuate that he should be in 
possession of a surplus. It was importunate, and it was 
straightway prorogued. 

On the continent Louis still waged war on Holland, but 
Turenne was dead at Saltzbach, and De Ruyter dead in 
Italy. A congress was held at Nimeguen, but the war con¬ 
tinued, the Prince of Orange doggedly holding his enemy in 
check. Seldom was he successful in battle. At St. Omer he 
suffered great losses, but ever he managed just to hold back 
the French. So Louis approached his cousin Charles 
tentatively. 

Negotiations were opened and carried on through M. 
Barillon, the French ambassador; the Duchess of Ports¬ 
mouth; and my Lord Danby. Into the negotiations strolled 
my Lord Roxhythe. 

Charles was dissatisfied. Louis showed a tendency to 
meanness. Charles held counsel with his favourite. 

“David, it is like squeezing money from a stone.” 

“Is it, Sir?” 

Charles was petulant. He repulsed one of the spaniels 
which was trying to leap on to his knee. 

“It is unsatisfactory, trafficking through Barillon. I do 
not know King Louis his real mind. As before, we are 
fenced round with vague terms. I’ll do the thing direct or 
not at all.” 

“Ah!” Roxhythe sighed, for he perceived whither this 
led. 

Charles shook back his curls. In his eyes was a brooding 
melancholy look that the favourite knew well. 

211 


212 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Barillon speaks me fair and offers little. Louise-” 

he shrugged. “She leaves me in the dark. Before I enter 
into a second treaty with Louis I’ll know where I stand. 
He seeks to trap me.” 

“Naturally. So the whole matter lies in one short 
sentence: —Roxhythe must go to France.” 

The King half smiled. 

“It seems so, David.” 

“To discover King Louis his mind?” 

“Ay. Roxhythe, I have no notion how much I may with 
safety demand. I would ask—the same as before. Louis 
would try to beat me down. If I know not what is the 
maximum sum he will pay I dare not stand adamant. I 
must know. And there is none like unto you for discover¬ 
ing these matters. I want the thing done quickly; I am 
tired of all this haggling and bargaining.” 

Roxhythe nodded. 

“And when I have discovered this: what then?” 

“I will have you take a letter to King Louis setting forth 
my mind.” 

“But, Sir, why not negotiate then through Barillon?” 

“Because I dislike the oily-tongued rascal! I’ll lay the 
matter bare before Louis—he shall know my wants from 
me alone; not as translated and modified by his own 
servants.” 

“Very well, Sir.” 

“You must go to Monmouth. You have been a-many 
times, so it will not give rise to suspicion. And from thence 
to Paris.” 

Roxhythe cast up his eyes. 

“Have a little mercy, Sir! Employ one of the Duchess 
her creatures.” 

“No. I trust no one save you.” 

“I am flattered, Sir, of course.” 

Charles stretched himself, laughing. Some of the 
shadows had gone from his eyes. 

“David, ye grow ungallant!” 

“I grow weary, Sir, and old,” retorted my lord. 

“Nevertheless, ye will go?” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


213 


“I suppose I must, Sir.” 

Charles smiled, full of affectionate understanding. 

So Roxhythe went again to Paris. 

During his absence Lady Crewe came one evening to 
Bevan House, closely veiled. She was ushered into the 
library where Christopher received her. When he saw who 
it was who had come to see Roxhythe at such an informal 
hour, he was horrified. 

My lady moved agitated hands. 

“Mr. Dart, I must see my Lord Roxhythe.” Her voice 
was carefully controlled, but Christopher could detect the 
flutter beneath her calm. 

“I am very sorry, Lady Crewe, but—” 

“Please—do not—make excuses! I must see him.” 

“Madame, it is impossible. He is not here.” 

She stared at him, blankly. 

“Not—here! Oh—I—did not know! I—” She broke 
off twisting her hands. 

Christopher watched her. He saw pride struggling with 
desire, and wondered. Suddenly she turned to him. 

“Mr. Dart, I want so much to ask my lord not to—not 
to—go to Lady Claremont’s rout next week!” 

Christopher looked at her steadily. The reason sounded 
much like an excuse. He bowed. 

Millicent read the doubt in his face; she drew herself up 
proudly. 

“Will you please deliver that message to my lord as soon 
as he returns?” 

Christopher decided that his suspicions were unjust. He 
came forward, taking her hand. 

“Will you not be seated, Madame? Of course I will 
deliver your message, but—forgive me—is it not rather a 
strange one?” 

“I—yes, I suppose you must think so. Perhaps he—will 
not understand—I—oh, promise me you will tell this to—” 

“Whatever you impart to me I shall treat as a strict 
confidence.” 

“Thank you. It is just that—people are talking still 
about—my lord—and me. And last week—we—I was at 


214 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Lady Bletchley’s and she presented—Roxhythe—to me, and 
we had to dance—and my husband was very angry. Now 
he watches my every movement. He heard my lord ask me 
if I was to be at the Claremont rout—next week. And then 
at a coffee-house there was some vile talk—and oh, I don’t 
know how it is, but he hath it firmly fixed in his head— 
that we—that I have arranged to meet—my lord—there, 
because Henry is not going. He—he is mad with jealousy. 
He won’t believe—that it is not so. I feel he means to 
arrive at the rout—later in the evening—and—if my lord is 
there—and I am there—he—he—is so wild I fear a scene— 
or that he will challenge my lord. You see, of late— 
Lord Roxhythe has been at all the balls—and—oh, I dare 
not stay at home, for then Henry suspects me more than 
ever! Please, please do not let Roxhythe go to the 
Claremont rout!” 

“I will certainly try to prevent it,” soothed Christopher. 
“But are you sure that your husband is quite as mad—as 
you think?” He spoke apologetically. 

“You do not know how wild he is! And—and because I 
go to Lady Frances’ house who is Roxhythe’s cousin, he 
thinks—he thinks—oh, it is all too horrible!” 

“It must be,” said Christopher with feeling. “Will it 
comfort you if I promise that Roxhythe shall not go to this 
ball?” 

“Oh, yes!” she sighed. “Thank you very much!” 

He showed her out, anxious that she should leave as soon 
as might be. Hysterical women filled him with nervous¬ 
ness. 

When he came back to the library his lips pursed. 

“Thunder of God, what a household! And how 
indiscreet of her to come here!” He shook his head wisely. 

When Roxhythe returned two days later, Christopher told 
him of my lady’s visit. 

“Little fool,” commented my lord. 

“Sir, she is naught but a child, and—I believe I am sorry 
for her.” 

Roxhythe poured himself out a glass of burgundy. 

“She behaves so foolishly. I have but to enter the room 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


215 


for her to go pale and then red. They are a melodramatic 
pair. I wish them joy of each other.” He drained the glass 
and lounged out. 

Shortly after noon on the following day Roxhythe was in 
his private room attending to some affairs. To him came a 
lackey who announced that Sir Henry Crewe was down¬ 
stairs and desired to see him at once. 

One haughty eyebrow rose. 

“I do not receive,” said my lord. 

“I thought not,” said a deadly calm voice. “So I 
followed your servant.” 

The scandalized footman threw a deprecatory glance at 
his master. Roxhythe nodded. Sir Henry came firmly into 
the room; the door closed behind the lackey. 

Roxhythe looked his visitor up and down. 

“May I know to what I owe this honour?” he drawled. 

Crewe was very pale, with determination writ upon his 
face. 

“A year ago, sir, you refused to fight me. Since then I 
have watched you closely. I have seen you at every ball, 
sometimes in attendance with my wife. I have remarked 
how many evenings she spends with your cousin. I am 
not a fool; neither am I blind.” 

My lord’s mouth twitched. 

“I am glad to know that,” he said. 

“Perhaps it surprises you!” sneered Crewe. 

“I confess I had not given you credit for much brain. Of 
course if you assure me that I was wrong I have no choice 
but to believe you.” 

“You may mock as much as you please, my lord, but 
you will not evade the point any longer. It has come to 
my knowledge that my wife came to your house three nights 
since. I have borne much, but this goes beyond all bounds. 
One of us dies, my lord. Will you meet me?” 

Roxhythe balanced his quill on one finger. 

“I gave you the answer to that question a year ago, my 
friend.” 

“You still refuse?” 

“Certainly.” 


216 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Perhaps—” Crewe laughed derisively. “—perhaps 

you’ll deny that my wife came to your house?” 

“I am not in a position to deny it. You see, I was not in 
London.” 

Crewe laughed again. 

“A lie!” 

Roxhythe bowed. 

“I have called you coward; I now call you liar. Do you 
still refuse to meet me?” 

“I do.” 

An unpleasant smile hovered about Crewe’s mouth. He 
strode to the door, turned the key in the lock, and pocketed 
it. Roxhythe watched, mildly interested. 

“Very well, my lord. You force my hand.” Sir Henry 
produced a case of pistols. He laid them on the table. 
“You will find them ready primed, sir, and alike in every 
respect. You may take your choice. We will stand at 
opposite ends of the room. It is now two minutes to the 
hour. When the clock strikes for the third time we fire.” 

“It doesn’t strike,” said Roxhythe apologetically. 

Crewe reddened. 

“Then you may count.” 

“You are very kind,” murmured my lord. 

“Have you chosen your weapon, sir?” 

Roxhythe pushed them away. 

“My dear, impetuous fool, do you seriously think that I 
am going to fight you?” 

“If you do not I’ll shoot you like the dog you are!” 

“Not in this coat,” said Roxhythe. He stroked its velvet 
surface lovingly. 

Crewe curbed his temper with difficulty. 

“I think you will have no need of coats after to-day, sir.” 

“Oh, I trust so,” answered Roxhythe placidly. 

Crewe picked up one of the pistols. 

“Do you fire from where you sit, sir?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe. 

Light sprang to the angry eyes. 

“At last! From where, my lord?” 

“From nowhere,” said Roxhythe. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


217 


The nervous hands clenched. 

“I could strangle you in your chair, you mocking devil!” 

“I doubt it,” smiled Roxhythe, unruffled. He rose, and 
came towards the furious young man. “In a very few 
moments I shall have lost my patience,” he said. “So I 
advise you to go.” 

The pistol was raised. 

“If you call for help I fire!” threatened Crewe. 

“What I dislike about you is your deplorable manner,” 
complained Roxhythe. “Don’t wave that thing in my 
face!” 

“Pick up that pistol! By God, if you goad me much 
further I will shoot you out of hand!” 

“I thought you proposed doing that in any case. I 
suppose you have not the courage.” 

Crewe’s finger was on the trigger. His eyes blazed. 

“’Tis not I who lack courage, my lord! ’Tis you!” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“Do you doubt me?” cried Sir Henry. 

“You are labouring under a delusion,” replied Roxhythe. 
“I am not deaf.” 

“Damn you, pick up that pistol!” 

The smile became insufferable. 

“Damn you, pick it up yourself,” said Roxhythe, very 
urbane. 

Crewe looked in the handsome, laughing face, saw that 
my lord was playing with him, would continue to play with 
him, and went white. In that moment all semblance of 
sanity left him. He raised the pistol. His hand was 
trembling, but he controlled it; he had no thought for the 
consequences; he only knew that Roxhythe was laughing at 
him, jibing at him. He fired . . . 

The report was deafening; smoke flooded the room. As 
soon as he had pulled the trigger Crewe realized the 
enormity of his act, and came violently to his senses. He 
dropped the pistol, shuddering. 

The smoke cleared. Lord Roxhythe was lying inert upon 
the floor. Below his right shoulder a great red patch was 
growing, growing. 


218 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Crewe stared numbly. The patch was creeping over my 
lord’s coat, soon it would trickle down on to the carpet. 
It seemed a pity. Crewe tried to imagine what it would 
look like when the steadily flowing blood should have 
reached the floor. It would spoil the carpet; he thought 
that blood-stains never came out, but he was not sure. 

Along the passage came the sound of footsteps, running. 
The door was tried; voices called; someone was trying to 
burst open the lock. 

The noise dispelled some of the mists that were gathering 
about Crewe’s mind. 

“Wait! wait!” He fumbled in his pocket for the key, 
and finding it, thrust it into the lock with cold, trembling 
fingers .... 

The room seemed full of people. They were gathered 
about my lord’s body, talking excitedly. No one noticed 
him. How foolish they were! Why try to staunch that 
blood? Roxhythe was dead. He, Crewe, had killed 
him... How still Roxhythe lay! He could not look 
at him. He leant against the wall, sick and cold. 

Into the confusion came Christopher, swiftly. 

“What is it? I thought I heard—” he stopped short 
seeing the agitated group at one end of the room. Like a 
flash he was across the floor and had thrust two of the men 
aside. 

Crewe watched covertly. The red patch was growing and 
growing; it had reached the carpet. What fools they were! 
Why did they not stop it? 

Christopher gave a strangled cry. He was down beside 
my lord, agonized, feeling for his heart. 

“My God, no!” he whispered. “Not dead! Not dead!” 

Those around grew suddenly quiet. 

Christopher lifted his head from my lord’s breast. 

“He is alive. James, run for the nearest surgeon! 
Quickly!” 

The man hurried out. 

“John?” He was staunching the blood with deft, tender 
fingers, as he spoke. 

Roxhythe’s old servant stood before him, shaking. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


219 


Christopher looked up. 

“Get me linen and water!” 

John fled. 

“The rest of you, go!” said Christopher. His eyes fell 
on Crewe, leaning against the wall, face averted. 

“Crewe!” 

A footman pushed forward. 

“Ay, sir! He came an hour since, and forced himself 
into the room. I thought that he was queer-like then—” 

“Fool! Why did you let him in?” 

“But, sir! My lord said—” 

“Oh ay, ay! See that he does not escape now. My God, 
if Roxhythe dies—!” 

Two lackeys seized Sir Henry’s arms and stood holding 
him. The rest, in obedience to Christopher’s commands, 
drifted away. 

John came running with linen and water. Between them, 
he and Christopher bound the wound tightly, and 
straightened my lord’s limbs. Then, after what seemed an 
interminable time, Mr. Burnest, the surgeon, appeared, and 
attended to the wound. 

Christopher watched breathlessly as his hands moved 
about my lord. 

Burnest finished his examination. 

“By God’s mercy it has not touched the lung. He will 
live.” 

The colour came flooding back to Christopher’s cheeks. 
John fell on his knees beside the writing-table, sobbing 
thankfully. 

Crewe’s voice, hoarse, unlike himself, cut across the 
room. 

“He’ll live, you say?” 

Christopher swung round fiercely. 

“No thanks to you, you damned scoundrel!” 

Burnest looked up quickly. 

“What’s that?” he said sharply. 

Before anyone had time to answer Roxhythe stirred. 
Christopher was beside him in a moment, and knelt down on 
the floor holding one of the beautifully shaped hands in his. 


220 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


The deep brown eyes opened. They were puzzled; then 
the bewilderment faded, and amusement took its place. My 
lord regarded the surgeon silently. Then he looked 
at Christopher. Lastly he frowned. 

“God’s Body! My new coat!” 

At the sound of the faint voice, Christopher gave vent 
to a shaky laugh of relief and pressed my lord’s hand to 
his lips. Roxhythe saw the blood on his sleeve. 

“Ruined!” he said. He showed a tendency to rise, and 
was suppressed. 

“My lord, you must be still!” commanded Burnest. 

“If you think I shall continue to lie on this devilish hard 
floor, you are mistaken,” said Roxhythe faintly. “Chris!” 

Christopher bent over him. 

“I implore you to lie still, sir. If you move you will 
start the bleeding again.” 

“Send for James and another. I’ll be lifted to the 
couch.” He saw Christopher glance at the surgeon. “I 
mean it, Chris.” 

Burnest knew Roxhythe of old. He shrugged. 

In five minutes my lord was reposing on the sofa, his 
wig straight, his side neatly bandaged. Burnest gave him a 
restorative and his voice grew stronger. 

John was standing by his side, holding the empty glass. 
There was a look of dumb agony in his eyes. 

Roxhythe stretched out his hand. 

“My dear John, I am not like to die this time.” 

John kissed his hand. Tears were running down his 
cheeks. 

“My lord—my lord—” 

“Yes. Go and get some canary for Mr. Burnest. Take 
it into the library.” He turned his head and saw Crewe, 
standing between the two footmen. He surveyed his 
servants coldly. 

“What do you think you are doing?” 

One of them fidgetted uncomfortably. 

“My lord, Mr. Dart said—” 

“You have my permission to go.” 

They glanced at Christopher, irresolute. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


221 


“I gave an order.” Roxhythe’s voice was icy. 

Both men left the room hastily. 

“Mr. Burnest, Chris will take you into the library. You 
must be thirsty after your run.” 

“No, I thank you, sir. I am waiting to bleed you.” 

“You are very kind,” said Roxhythe. “You will have to 
wait quite half an hour.” 

“Indeed, no! It is imperative!” 

“My good friend this is not the first time that I have 
been wounded. Chris, take him away.” 

“I cannot, sir. I beg you will be reasonable.” 

“You fatigue me,” sighed his lordship. “I am in the 
middle of a discussion with Sir Henry. I cannot be 
interrupted in this fashion.” 

“There has already been an interruption! I want to 
know what it was!” cried Christopher. 

“You always were inquisitive. Sir Henry has been 
showing me his pistols which are of a very exquisite 
workmanship. Unhappily they have a tricky way of 
exploding—as you see.” 

“That will not suffice, sir. You cannot put me off with 
such an explanation!” 

The brown eyes were like stones. 

“That is my explanation. Any who doubt my word may 
come and tell me.” 

“Sir, I know something of what lies behind! I—” 

“Take Mr. Burnest to the library.” 

“My lord—” 

“You hear me?” 

Christopher flushed. 

“Very well, sir.” He rose sullenly. “Mr. Burnest, will 
you—” 

“It is impossible! Lord Roxhythe, you cannot—’ 

“You waste time,” said Roxhythe wearily. 

“You had best come,” advised Christopher. “It will do 
no good to argue.” 

“But—! Heavens, Mr. Dart, he should be put to bed 
at once! He cannot stay talking to his friends! Tis mad¬ 
ness! I—” 


222 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You heard him. He will ever go his own way.” 

Burnest knew this. He turned to my lord. 

“Sir, if I leave you, will you promise not to move, nor 
to exert yourself in any way?” 

“Aught you please.” 

“Then I will go. Against my wish!” 

“I thank you.” 

Burnest followed Christopher out. 

There was silence. Roxhythe pressed his handkerchief 
to his lips. His face was rather drawn. 

“Come and sit down, Crewe.” 

Sir Henry spoke hoarsely. 

“I’ll not take my life at your hands!” 

“You will do exactly what I say. Sit down.” 

Crewe obeyed limply. He had the look of one who is 
weary beyond words. 

“Well, I compliment you,” remarked his lordship. “I 
did not think you would do it.” 

Crewe flung out his hands. 

“Before God, I swear I never meant to! It was a sudden 
madness! I fired before I had time to think! You must 
believe that! Oh—” 

“As usual you spoil everything. Including my coat. I 
had hoped it was your intention. I had thought the better 
of you.” 

Crewe stared at him. 

“You must be—crazed!” 

“No. Luckily I am sane. So we may come to an under¬ 
standing.” 

The wretched man groaned, his head in his hands. 

“Now, what is this nonsense about your wife?” 

“You know! Oh, heaven, must you add to your 
devilry?” 

“You would greatly oblige me by dropping the heroic 
pose. You raved some nonsense about my meeting 
Millicent every day at my cousin her house. I have never 
met her there.” 

Crewe looked up. 

“If I could believe that—!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


223 


“You can. Our very harmless little affaire ended last 
March. I’ll swear to that if my word is not enough.” 

“No—no. But she came here three nights ago! You 
cannot deny that!” 

“I make no attempt to deny it. She had come to ask 
me not to appear at the rout next week.” 

“Not to— That seals her guilt!” 

“Fool. She feared your mad jealousy would prompt 
you to make a scene. You have so worked on her with 
your passions that she is well-nigh crazed herself. There 
is naught between us.” 

Crewe sprang up. 

“Swear it! Swear it!” 

“Very well, I swear it. You can ask her. She will tell 
the same tale. Last year she was infatuated by me. Soit. 
It ended as you know. Had you then behaved sensibly 
towards her all would have been well. You preferred to 
enact the heroic husband. That too is ended. You’ll go to 
her and ask her pardon on your knees.” Few had heard 
that lazy voice so stern. 

Crewe was silent, fighting himself. 

“If you say naught concerning this afternoon’s work 
there will be no scandal. I shall not allow any man to 
question my explanation. But . . .’’he paused. 

“But?” Crewe stepped forward. 

“But you must withdraw yourself for—a year. I suggest 
you take Millicent away. I believe I suggested that 
before.” 

“I see.” Crewe struggled for words. “You have treated 
me—better than I—deserve, sir.” 

“Yes,” said Roxhythe. “Goodbye.” 



CHAPTER VI 


The King His Will 

My lord lay in bed, propped up on pillows, rather weak 
from copious bleeding, but otherwise himself. The surgeon 
had been amazed at his nonchalance, well as he knew him, 
for the wound was deep, and the extraction of the bullet 
had been more than painful. My lord had neither flinched 
nor swooned. 

Christopher was seated by the bedside, entertaining him, 
when John came into the room. 

“My lord, the King is below.” He said it with the utmost 
unconcern. In his eyes the King was as nothing beside 
Roxhythe. 

Roxhythe picked up his mirror. 

“Admit His Majesty,” he said. “Give me that comb, 
Chris.” 

“Should I not go to escort His Majesty?” asked 
Christopher, flustered. 

“No. Give me the comb.” 

Christopher watched him rearrange two curls. He 
looked at the door, wide-eyed. 

John bowed His Majesty in. Roxhythe struggled up. 

Charles went quickly to him, pressing him back on to 
the pillows. 

“Don’t move, Davy! Ah, what a crime!” 

Christopher withdrew discreetly. 

Roxhythe kissed his master’s hand. 

“Sire, you honour me very greatly. I scarce know how 
to thank you—” 

Charles sat down. 

“I came as soon as I heard the news. Some said you 
were dead; I have been in a ferment! No one knew the 
truth concerning the matter. Davy, how dared you scare 
me so?” 


224 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


225 


“I do crave your pardon, Sir. It was not my intention 
to be shot.” He smiled faintly. His hand rested in the 
King’s. “It was an accident.” 

“A curious accident!” said Charles. “I want the truth, 
David.” 

“For what purpose, Sir?” 

“I’ll not have your murderer go unpunished!” 

“But I am not dead. I repeat—it was an accident.” 

Charles was incredulous. 

“ ’Tis not like you to play the magnanimous part, 
Roxhythe. Are you shielding the man?” 

“ ’Tis a new departure. A whim.” 

“You’ll not be avenged?” 

“By no means.” 

• “David, I will have the truth!” 

“Sire, I will have your promise.” 

“That I’ll not pursue the miscreant?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Charles frowned. 

“Why, David?” 

“Because it is my will.” 

The King tried to keep back a laugh and failed. 

“Oddsblood, you’re bold!” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“Very well,” said Charles. “I promise—since it is 
your will. I suppose you know that I can refuse you 
nothing?” 

“You’ve said so, Sir. Crewe conceived himself injured 
by my attentions to his wife. So he challenged me to 
fight him. I refused.” 

“Challenged you! What presumption!” 

“So I thought. The other day Lady Crewe came to my 
house—oh, quite innocently! Crewe discovered it, and 
came to challenge me again. Again I refused. Then the 
young coxcomb locked the door and laid two pistols before 
me. It was most exciting. We were to stand at opposite 
ends of the room and to fire. Oons, but he was furious!” 

“David, do you tell me that you actually consented to 
such a proposal?” 


226 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Roxhythe was pained. 

“Is it likely, Sir? I continued to refuse. The child was 
easy to bait. In the end his wrath got the better of him and 
he threatened to shoot ine—er, like the dog I was.” 

“Insolent!” 

“Very. I did not think he had the courage to do it. 
Evidently he had, for here am I.” 

The King’s brow was very black. 

“He should be strung up if I had my way!” 

“Happily for him you have not, Sir. I did consider 
the matter, but I decided to let him go.” 

“But why? why?” 

“There were several reasons. First, it was so damned 
amusing. And Roxhythe does not descend to vengeance on 
gnats. He was altogether too little. Lastly there is his 
wife.” 

“ Sangdieu! Are you so infatuated by that chit?” 

“No. On the contrary. I am so weary of meeting her 
and seeing her wan looks cast at me that I am determined 
to make an end. I have sent them away. Had I handed 
Crewe over to justice Millicent would have remained. In 
all probability she would have expected me to marry her.” 

The King’s lips twitched. 

“So in this weird fashion you are rid of both?” 

“That is it, Sir.” 

“You are wonderful,” said Charles. “And quite unique.” 

“I believe I am,” said his lordship modestly. 

“You’ve still to combat the gossip,” warned Charles. 
“London is shrieking the news that you have been murdered 
by Crewe. No one will believe your tale of accidents.” 

“Will they not, Sir! I think they will not dare to 
disbelieve—openly.” 

“Perhaps you are right. But you cannot kill talk.” 

“I shall not try. There will be no talk addressed to 
me. And Crewe will be out of reach.” 

“And so it ends! I admit that it is a wise finish. But I 
would have liked to punish the wretch.” 

“Sir, I have had enough of heroics. You’ll oblige me 
by treating the affair as an accident.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


227 


Charles laughed at him. 

“You shall be obeyed, my lord. And now there is 
another matter.” 

“I know, Sir. I have been cursing my ill-luck all day.” 

“So have I. ’Tis not often that you fail me, David.” 

“I humbly beg your pardon, Sir.” 

“No, no, Davy! Twas not your fault. But devil take 
us all, what am I to do?” , 

“May I make a suggestion, Sir?” 

“Provided it bear sense.” 

“I counsel you to continue your negotiations through 
Barillon.” 

“I tell you I’ll not! You say fifty thousand is Louis’ 
price. It is not enough. Cordieu! the thing is hard to do 
as it stands. I’ll be well paid.” 

“Fifty thousand is a very fair price, Sir.” 

“Before he paid two hundred thousand.” 

“True. But since then you have played fast and loose 
with him, Sir. You’ll not get that sum again.” 

Charles bit his lip moodily. 

“Does Louis think that it is an easy matter for me to trick 
my Parliament?” 

“He remembers that you did it before with great ease, 
Sir.” 

“Ay, but now they suspect me. Body o’ God! I’ll not 
accept a paltry fifty thousand for such a task!” 

“What says Danby?” asked my lord. 

“He is a fool.” 

“I take it that he does not like the Bond?” 

“Oh he likes it well enough until he is assailed by a fit 
of virtue. And then he glooms and grumbles. I am sick 
to death of them all.” 

“And His Highness?” 

“As usual he objects to what he terms ‘the bribe.’ He 
hath no head.” 

“And Lauderdale?” 

“To hell with Lauderdale!” 

“I’m with you there. Beware that man, Sir!” 

“Pah! I have him in a vice. He fears impeachment.” 


228 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“So! And now what?” 

“I’ll write to Louis.” 

A shadow crossed Roxhythe’s face. 

“Your Majesty is vague. If it is not an impertinent 
question, what will you write? ’ 

“Asking him for better terms.” 

The firm lips curled. 

“You’ll beg of Louis, Sir?” 

Charles was silent. 

Roxhythe stared before him. His face was hard, inscru¬ 
table. 

Charles moved his hand wearily. 

“I’ve no choice. I must have money. Last year I 
essayed the Commons. You saw what came of it. What 
else can I do?” 

Roxhythe turned his head. 

“Well . . . so be it. After all, what matter?” 

“What indeed? I knew you would stand by me, Davy!” 
The King’s spirits had risen. Quickly they clouded over 
again. 

“I wanted you to bear the letter to Paris—to plead my 
cause with Louis. And they tell me you’ll not be out of 
your room for a week.” 

“They lie,” said my lord calmly. “But I fear I cannot 
travel for a week.” 

“I’ll not have you move from your bed until the surgeon 
permits. Understand that, Roxhythe!” 

“Is this an order, Sir?” 

“An order that I will have obeyed.” 

“Very well, Sir. And I do not think I should be an apt 
messenger.” 

“I am sure you would,” smiled Charles. 

“No. I am not versed in the art of—begging.” 

“Roxhythe!” 

The favourite lay back. There were grim lines about his 
mouth. 

“I do not take that tone from any man alive, Roxhythe.” 

My lord never said a word. 

The King grew colder. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


229 


“I await your apology.” 

“If I have offended, I ask your Majesty’s pardon. I but 
spoke my mind.” 

Charles was very angry. He rose and put back his chair. 

“It seems you want to quarrel with me, Roxhythe. You 
are under my displeasure.” 

He stood looking down at the drawn face for a 
moment. Then he bent, laying his hand on Roxhythe’s. 

“I had forgot how nigh I was to losing you, Davy. I’ 
faith, I cannot find it in my heart to punish your rudeness.” 
His voice was very gentle. 

Roxhythe’s fingers closed on his. 

“Sir, you know how great is my love for you! If I have 
been impertinent ’tis because I cannot bear to have you beg 
of Louis.” 

“I know, David, I know! Do you think it does not irk 
me? But needs must when the devil drives.” 

“If you say so, Sir, it is enough. Yet I am glad that I 
cannot bear this letter.” 

“Now that I know your mind, I’d not ask you. Dimcock 
must take it.” 

Dimcock was the King’s private messenger. 

“Or Church,” said Roxhythe. 

“No. Church is not faithful.” 

“When did you discover that, Sir?” 

Charles smiled. 

“I discern your triumph. A week ago. I remembered 
your warnings. Now there is only Dimcock left. I dare 
not risk an unfaithful messenger with this.” He drew 
his hand away as he spoke. “I must go, Davy. I doubt I 
have tired you.” 

“You have given me new life, Sir.” 

“Have I? I will come again as soon as may be. And, 
Roxhythe! ” 

“Sire?” 

“Promise me you will obey the surgeon! Mordieu, if I 
were to lose you—!” 

“I promise, Sir.” Roxhythe stretched out his hand to 
the bell at his side. Charles rang it for him. 


230 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


As if by magic, Christopher appeared. 

“Chris, you will escort His Majesty downstairs.” 

“Ah, Mr. Dart!” The King was pleased to be gracious. 
“I fear you have a difficult patient.” 

Christopher smiled, bowing. 

“No, Sir. My lord is quite tractable.” 

“I have never found him so,” said Charles. “I charge 
you very straitly to have a care for him.” He flung a 
glance at Roxhythe, brimful of mischief. “ ’Twas a 
grievous accident!” 

“Yes, Sir,” said Christopher grimly. 

The King bent over Roxhythe again. 

“Fare ye well, Davy. I shall come again within a day or 
two.” 

Roxhythe kissed his hand. 

“I can find no words wherewith to thank you, Sir. You 
are very good.” 

Christopher accompanied the King downstairs, nearly 
bursting with pride. 

“Is the surgeon satisfied with him?” asked Charles, his 
hand on the baluster. 

“Yes, Sir. But he urges complete rest. My lord must 
not move this week.” 

“See to it that he does not, Mr. Dart. He is very dear to 
me.” 

“He is very dear to me, Sir.” 

Charles looked at him kindly. 

“That is very well. You have been with him some time, 
I think?” 

“Yes, Sir. Close on eight years.” 

“He has been with me for thirty. There is not his 
equal on this earth.” 

Christopher blushed in anticipation of what he was going 
to say. 

“Except Your Majesty, Sir.” 

Charles laughed, 

“Very good, Mr. Dart!” 

As they crossed the hall, he spoke again. 

“I think you were his would-be champion some time ago?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


231 


Christopher met his quizzical glance and flushed to the 
ears. 

“Why, Sir, I—he would not have it so—but—” 

“I was much entertained to hear of it. I commend your 
action, Mr. Dart.” His two equerries joined him. He 
extended his hand to Christopher, who went on one knee 
to kiss it. In that moment he would have laid down his life 
for the King. 


CHAPTER VII 


The Hand of Fate 

The wound was slow in healing, and Roxhythe grew 
impatient. Then, unexpectedly, came the King. As before, 
he was ushered into the sick room, but this time he barely 
waited for Roxhythe to speak before he broke out. 

“David, the devil is in it this time, and no mistake! ’ 

Roxhythe supported himself on his elbow, wincing at 
the pain the movement gave him. 

“What’s amiss, Sir?” 

“Dimcock is down with the fever!” Charles could still 
laugh, albeit a trifle ruefully. 

“The hand of fate,” said Roxhythe. 

“It would appear so. Yet am I determined that this 
letter shall go.” 

“Who will you send to take it?” 

“Plague seize it, I do not know! I trust no one. So I 
came to you.” 

“Give me three days, Sir! I’ll do it.” 

“No, that was not my meaning. You will stay where 
you are. I thought mayhap you know of a trustworthy 
man?” 

“Not I, Sir, alack! Oh, devil take Crewe and his works! 
That I should fail you when you most need me!” 

Charles forced him back on to his pillows. 

“Gently, Roxhythe! Is there no one whom you can 
call upon?” 

“No one.” 

Charles threw himself into a chair. 

“The luck is against me. I had thought of Louise, but 
we are at variance for the moment on account of poor 
Nelly. Oddsfish, but Louise can be very spiteful when 
she likes! I’ll not approach her.” 

232 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


233 


“Sire, take it as an omen! The Fates are against it. 
Negotiate through Barillon.” 

Charles was superstitious by nature, but the appeal 
failed. 

“Damme, no! I am determined. Think, David! Is 
there no one?” 

“Justin?” 

“I believe him to be in Shaftesbury’s pay.” 

“Cherrywood?” 

“I would send him but that he is in Flanders with 
Monmouth.” 

“Then there is no one. Buckingham would have done 
it, but you have cast him off.” 

“I’d not trust him. Think again, David!” 

There was a long silence. Roxhythe lay staring before 
him, his brain working swiftly. Charles, watching him 
anxiously, saw his lips tighten suddenly, and his brows 
draw together. He seemed to be considering. 

“Roxhythe, do not fail me in this!” besought the King. 

Roxhythe looked at him wistfully. He sighed. 

“I will not fail you, Sir. I know of a man.” 

“Ah! His name?” 

“Dart.” 

“Your secretary? I’d not thought of that. But will 
he do it?” 

“Yes,” said Roxhythe. “He will do it for my sake.” 

“And he may be trusted?” 

“Implicitly.” 

“Why, David, it could not be better!” 

“There is a drawback.” 

“Always the pessimist!” 

“Perhaps. Christopher will serve you very well pro¬ 
vided that he does not know what it is that he does.” 

“Oho!” Charles pursed his lips. “Sits the wind in that 
quarter?” 

“Christopher believes you to be impeccable. He has no 
notion of French intrigue. He trusts me wholly.” 

“He would not trust either of us did we send him to 
Paris,” said Charles gloomily. 


234 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“We shall not send him to Paris.” 

“Roxhythe, let me have no riddles! What is it that you 
propose?” 

“Send him with your letter to Flanders, with another 
writ by you to Cherry wood. You can rely on him?” 

“Ay.” 

“He will deliver the packet to Cherrywood, who will 
journey with it to Paris. Chris need do no more. It’s 
very simple.” 

“It is well thought out,” admitted Charles. “But what 
will you tell Dart? There must be no shadow of 

suspicion.” 

“I will say that the packet contains private orders for 
Monmouth. You need have no fear.” 

“If they are orders for Monmouth he will wonder why 
he is to take them to Cherrywood,” objected Charles. 

“No. I shall tell him that they are to be delivered into 
his hands and not the Duke’s on account of the French 
spies that do watch Monmouth very closely.” 

“ Tis very intricate, David. Are you sure that you can 
vouch for Dart?” 

“I am sure.” 

“I would Dimcock were not ill,” sighed the King. “I 
mislike this scheme.” 

“Can you think of another, Sir?” 

“No. It must suffice. You’ll pave the way with Dart?” 

“Yes, Sir. When do you want him to start?” 

“The letter is not yet writ. Can you spare Dart by 
Wednesday?” 

“Sooner.” 

“Wednesday is soon enough. I’ll bring both letters 
then.” 

For a long time after the King had departed, Roxhythe 
lay still. 

When he had engaged Christopher eight years ago, it had 
been because he thought that the boy might prove useful in 
just such an affair as this. Gradually he had come to see 
that Christopher’s standards of right and honour were rigid 
and uncompromising. More than once he had sounded him 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


235 


on the subject, and always he had struck against that 
Puritanical streak that was at the bottom of his nature. 
He realised then that Christopher would never serve him 
as he had intended. Because the boy had become dear 
to him he had kept him at his side, taking great pains 
to trick him into oblivion of the intrigues that went on in 
his house. Looking back, he realised how much Chris¬ 
topher meant to him. He had grown accustomed to his 
quiet adoration, had come to expect the little attentions 
that the boy bestowed on him. 

In some vague way Christopher’s presence was neces¬ 
sary to his happiness. 

Until to-day he had relinquished all ideas of using 
him in his machinations. But to-day Charles had called 
on him for help. It was something in the nature of a 
struggle. If he chose to respect Christopher’s scruples 
he must fail the King; if he came to the King’s rescue he 
would perhaps destroy Christopher’s love for him. Secrets 
often leaked out. For the present he could keep the boy 
in ignorance of the real purpose of his mission, but one 
day it was possible that Christopher might discover the 
truth. 

The King’s cause had won. Roxhythe’s fondness for 
Christopher was as nothing beside his love for Charles. 
Long, long ago he had made his choice; had thrown in 
his lot with the King; all else had faded before the one 
man. It was not likely that the tables would be reversed 
at this stage. 

Charles had called on him: it was enough. 

When Christopher presently entered the room Roxhythe 
pointed to a chair. 

“Sit down Chris.” 

Christopher obeyed, somewhat mystified. 

“His Majesty visited me again to-day while you were out,” 
began Roxhythe. 

“So soon? He was here a very short while since.” 

“This time he came for a purpose. I can trust to your 
discretion, Chris?” 

“Of course, sir.” Christopher was interested. 


236 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Yes. You probably know that the King has always to 
beware of French spies; spies who would not scruple to 
interfere with his correspondence.” 

“I do suppose so, sir.” 

“For this reason he hath about his person several men 
whom he can trust implicitly. They are his private mes¬ 
sengers. When he desires to send dispatches privately these 
men bear them. But lately two have been discovered to be 
untrustworthy, another is ill, and the fourth is with 
Monmouth.” 

Christopher assented vaguely. He did not perceive the 
drift of the conversation. 

“And I,” said Roxhythe, “am also ill.” 

“Are you a messenger, sir?” 

“No, but I have played the part ere now. The King dare 
trust so few men.” 

“I see. Somehow I did not think you—Go on, sir!” 

“It so happens that the King wishes to send very private 
orders to Monmouth, concerning various matters, warning 
him ’gainst certain men that the King knows to be in French 
pay. My Lord Danby has couriers, but he cannot vouch 
for them. You understand that ’twould be ruinous if these 
dispatches fell into the hands of the French, or into those 
of some of our number whom we believe to be also in French 
pay.” 

Christopher began to see daylight. 

“Yes, sir. Do you mean-” 

“I mean that the King has appealed to me to find him a 
messenger who is above suspicion, who will guard that 
packet with his life. There are very few men to-day whom 
we can trust, but I think that there is one.” 

“Sir—will you—speak plainly?” Christopher clasped 
his hands on his knee. 

“I told His Majesty that I could find him a courier. I 
had you in mind.” 

“Oh—sir!” 

“You will do it?” 

“Oh—yes! I—I am all amazed! I—can scarcely believe 
that this honour is to be given—to me!” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


237 


“It is a very great honour,” said Roxhythe gravely. “I 
assured His Majesty that you were worthy of it.” 

Christopher caught his hand to his lips. 

“How kind you are! I owe it all to you! I—I cannot 
thank you enough! I do swear that I will prove faithful.” 

“I know that. You accept the task then?” 

“Accept! I would do aught in the world for His Majesty 
—and you.” 

“So I thought. You served me very well eight years ago. 
You are older now, and wiser. I can trust to your dis¬ 
cretion.” 

“I do not know why you should, sir! Indeed, I have 
done naught for you save the most trivial matters! I am 
overwhelmed.” 

“You’ve no alarms?” 

“Sir! When have I shown myself a coward?” 

“You will be alone this time.” 

“I do not fear.” 

“You will need all your wits. Remember, you go in my 
stead.” 

“I do remember it, sir. ’Tis because of that that I can 
scarce believe mine ears! That His Majesty should deign 
to send me in your place!” 

“His Majesty acts on my advice. If you fail—if you 
deliver those letters wrongly—on me will fall the blame.” 

“I will not! Oh, I swear that I will never give them 
up save to the Duke himself!” 

“You will not give them to the Duke. He also is sur¬ 
rounded by spies. It needs a more seasoned head to give 
them to him without creating suspicion. The King his 
fourth agent is in Monmouth’s train, as I told you. You 
will give the packet to him, and he will do the rest.” 

“Very well, sir. Who is this man?” 

“You have never seen him. He is named Cherrywood— 
Frederick Cherrywood. You will find him easily enough, 
for he is in Monmouth’s household.” 

“Will he believe me to be the King’s messenger?” asked 
Christopher. 

“The King will give you his ring as token. And he will 


238 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


recognize the cypher. This evening I'll outline your route 
and £rive you all minor instructions. You start in two 
days.’’ 

“Two days!” Christopher gasped. “But you, sir!” 

“What of me?” 

“You are ill! How can I leave you?” 

“Strange as it may seem, I have been ill before, and 
there was no Christopher. The King his will must be 
obeyed even though I were dying, which I am not.” 

“Yes, sir, of course! But I wish you were not ill. I do 
not like to leave you.” 

“If I were well you would not be asked to bear these 
dispatches,” Roxhythe reminded him. “However, you 
need have no qualms concerning me. I am under oath to 
His Majesty to obey the surgeon.” 

“If that is so it is very well,” said Christopher. 

“Yes. His Majesty will give the dispatches into your 
hands on Wednesday. And remember this, Chris! There 
must be no talking to Harcourt, or to Lady Fanny.” 

“Of course not, sir.” Christopher spoke with dignity. 

On Wednesday Burnest was so satisfied with my lord’s 
condition that he allowed him, on pressure, to be dressed 
and carried down to the library. There he reposed on a 
wide couch, rather exhausted, but cheerful. Christopher 
arranged his cushions more comfortably. 

“It has tired you, sir. You had best have kept your 
room.” 

“My dear boy, I dislike my room. The hangings are so 
crude. I shall have it seen to.” 

“You were never used to object to them,” said Chris¬ 
topher, smiling. 

“I was never in the room for so long at a stretch before. 
I believe that green has retarded my recovery.” He ate a 
comfit. “You are very smart to-day, Chris.” 

Christopher blushed, conscious of his modish brown 
velvet with its gold embroidery. 

“I see you know how to please His Majesty,” said my 
lord. "And, I think, here is His Majesty.” 

Footsteps were coming across the hall; voices were heard, 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


239 


and then the heavy curtain was swung back, and King 
Charles passed into the room. 

The footmen straightened their beautifully curved backs 
and disappeared. 

Christopher stood stiff. Out of the corner of his eye 
he saw that Roxhythe was trying to rise. He cast an 
anxious glance in his direction and another at the King. 
Charles was studying him calmly. He saw the hurried 
glance at Roxhythe, and turned. 

“David, I have never met a man so self-willed! Be 
still!” He clasped Roxhythe’s hand affectionately. “You 
are better? The surgeon permitted you to come down¬ 
stairs?” 

“Should I have dared to disobey Your Majesty’s com¬ 
mands?” smiled my lord. 

“I do not know!” Charles laughed. “I dare swear 
you bullied Burnest into complying with your will.” He 
looked at Christopher. “Eh, Mr. Dart?” 

Christopher bowed. 

“There was some slight coercion, Sir,” he replied. “But 
Burnest consented very quickly.” 

“I knew it!” said Charles. “Roxhythe, I am of a mind 
to send you back to bed!” 

“I beg you will not, Sir. The colour of the hangings 
has preyed cruelly upon my nerves.” 

Charles was amused. 

“The hangings?” 

“Green, Sir. They remind me of cabbage which 1 
detest.” 

“The contemplation of cabbages!” chuckled the King. 
“Is it a fruitful topic?” 

“Very, Sir. But wearisome. Will you not sit down? 

Charles sank into a chair. Again he addressed Chris¬ 
topher. 

“It is his foible that no one must stand in his presence. 
It unnerves him.” 

Christopher was re-arranging my lord’s pillows which 
had fallen in his struggle to rise. He laughed. 

“I did discover that within a week, Sire.” He stood 


240 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


back, surveying his handiwork. “Is it to your liking, sir?” 

“Thank you, yes. Since you are acquainted with my 
foible, sit down!” 

Charles nodded. 

“Yes, Mr. Dart. And so to my errand. Roxhythe has 
informed you of my will?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Well?” 

The King was grave now. Christopher had been con¬ 
scious of his charm; he now felt the force of his per¬ 
sonality. It was overwhelming. 

“I can scarce thank Your Majesty enough for the great 
honour you do me. If I may I will serve Your Majesty 
faithfully.” 

The far-famed Stuart smile touched the King’s lips. 

“Very well spoken, Mr. Dart. You have considered 
everything?” 

“Sire, I found nothing to consider save that Your Majesty 
had commands for me.” 

“A courtier, forsooth! We must see you at Whitehall. 
Then you will undertake this charge, and swear to carry it 
through with all care and discretion?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“You understand that you must exercise the greatest 
care? You must never allow the packet to leave your 
person; you must never allow any man however harmless 
to suspect you of being my envoy; you must deliver the 
packet into Cherrywood his hands. Whatever happens, 
none other must see it or know of its existence. You 
understand?” 

“I understand, Sir.” 

“That is well. When you have given it to Cherrywood 
you will return at once to London with his reply.” 

“Your Majesty may trust me.” 

“I do trust you, Mr. Dart. It will be in your power to 
betray me, yet I believe that no temptation would be strong 
enough to induce you to do so.” 

“I swear Your Majesty shall not be disappointed in me! 
I would serve Your Majesty till death itself!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


241 


“I thank you. And I compliment you.” The King 
drew two sealed packets from his bosom. “This one”— 
he held up the smaller of the two—“is for Cherrywood’s 
perusal; the other you will give him to take to Monmouth.” 

Christopher was on one knee now. Roxhythe flicked a 
speck of dust from his sleeve. 

Charles laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. His 
voice was almost stern. His fingers gripped. 

“I give them into your hands. See to it that they do not 
leave them until you have found Cherrywood. It is my 
most strict command.” 

Christopher took the letters. He spoke huskily. 

“Your Majesty has my word.” 

“Now swear to me by all that you hold most sacred that 
you will never by word or sign divulge the secret of this 
mission.” 

“I swear it.” 

The hand left his shoulder. Charles smiled again. 

“I can offer you no reward, Mr. Dart. But we shall 
be very pleased to see you at Whitehall.” 

“Your Majesty—is very good,” stammered Christopher. 

Charles drew off his signet ring. 

“You must show this to Cherrywood,” he said. 

Christopher took it and carried it to his lips. 

“On my head be it, Sir!” 

The King’s eyes twinkled. 

“Put it in a safer place, Mr. Dart,” he advised. 

And so the interview ended. 



CHAPTER VIII 


The Amiable Mr. Milward Again 

Contrary to his expectations Christopher met with no 
opposition on his journey to Flanders. He encountered but 
a single inquisitive gentleman, and he was inquisitive only 
on one point. The point was whether he was likely to be 
sea-sick on board ship. Christopher could not enlighten 
him. He left him apprehensive and disconsolate. 

He landed at Dunkirk and went by horse inland. The 
country interested him greatly, and he was still more inter¬ 
ested in the people that he met. He travelled northward, 
over Dutch ground, and wherever he went he heard noth¬ 
ing hut praise of the Stadtholder. Every host of every inn 
had something to say on the subject. Some were pessi¬ 
mistic, and doubted that, in spite of his great courage and 
determination, the Prince was too young for the task of 
expelling the French from the States. Others were con¬ 
fident of his ultimate success. On all sides was hatred for 
the French. 

Christopher arrived at length at the little town near 
which Monmouth had stationed his army. The Duke him¬ 
self was not in camp, but stayed with his household in one 
of the largest houses in the town. It had been entirely 
given over to him, and he contrived, so the landlord of the 
Setting Sun told Christopher, to while away his time very 
creditably. 

On the morning after his arrival Christopher caught 
sight of the Duke riding out in the midst of a gay cavalcade 
to the chase. He saw very little change in him. He was 
burnt by the sun and more developed, but otherwise just 
the same joyous, carefree Prince who had left England 
a few years before. 

After watching the Duke out of sight, Christopher went 
through the town on a voyage of exploration. 

He heard a good deal of English spoken around him, 

242 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


243 


and much French. Rather to his surprise he found that 
the town was seething with Frenchmen, and a few French 
officers. He was puzzled, but he remembered that England 
was now a neutral country and might receive whom she 
pleased in her camps. 

Presently he arrived at the big market-place in the 
middle of the town, and there to his dismay, he came across 
Mr. Milward, face to face. 

Escape was impossible. Christopher felt as though his 
coat were transparent and his precious packet in full view. 

Milward stared at him. Then he gave a great laugh, 
and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Oddsbody! My young friend of Flushing!” 

Sick at heart, Christopher assented. He grasped Mil- 
ward’s hand with an assumption of cordiality. Arm in 
arm they walked across the square. 

“What a surprise! I had not thought to see you here, 
Mr. Dart!” 

“Nor I you,” said Christopher truthfully. “I am sight¬ 
seeing. On my holiday, you understand.” 

“So? You are still with Lord Roxhythe?” 

“Yes. I have long been desirous of visiting the troops, 
so he hath given me leave to come.” 

“I am delighted! Another intrigue?” 

Christopher stared at him. 

“Intrigue? Not that I know of!” 

Milward laughed again. 

“Oh, you diddled me finely between you! ’Twas but 
lately that I found out. Gad, but I was puzzled! I knew 
not what to think, and when I reported to M. de Rouvigny 
he pulled the longest face I have ever seen! However, 
naught came of it. The secret leaked out a little while 
since. 

“What secret?” demanded Christopher blankly. 

“Tut-tut! There’s no need to feign innocence now. I 
fancy we work together, eh?” 

Christopher shook his head hopelessly. 

“You speak of what I know nothing. We went to 
Holland because of my lord’s disgrace.” 


244 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Bah! You know ’twas not so. 

“Indeed, indeed, I know nothing! Pray tell me what 


What is it 


you mean?” 

“Oh, if you knew naught, well and good! 

this time?” . , , 

Christopher saw that he was not believed.^ He sighed. 

“You speak in riddles. I am on my holiday. 

“Oho? You know, you need not be afraid to speak. We 
are all one over this.” 

By now Christopher was genuinely perplexed. 

“All one over what?” 

“Why, your errand, to be sure!” 

“But I am not come on an errand!” 

“Soho! You know naught of—M. Barillon?” 

“I have seen him several times, but-” 

“But you do not come from him?” 

“Of course I do not!” 

Milward wagged his finger expressively. 

‘You are very cautious with me. It is the King, eh?” 
‘What is the King?” 

“Your errand!” 

“Milward, pray do not be ridiculous! I have not an 
idea in my head what it is that you mean!” 

“Have you not? Oh, I’m not squeezing you! We are 
one now. Barillon warned us of something of this kind.” 

“I do not pretend to understand,” said Christopher. 
“You talk like a madman.” 

“That’s good, ’pon my soul! Don’t be offended! I 
won’t question you any further. Had you a fair crossing?” 
“Very fair,” said Christopher. They went into a little inn. 
When he at length shook off Mr. Milward he was hope¬ 
lessly bewildered. From that gentleman’s manner he would 
seem to be friendlily disposed, but Christopher mistrusted 
his manner. It almost seemed as though Milward believed 
him to be in French pay. Well, let him think so! 

Just before sundown he went to Monmouth’s house. 
He had no difficulty in entering, and on asking for 
Mr. Cherrywood, was shown into a small room over-looking 
the garden. 







THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


245 


Several gentlemen were strolling across the lawns. They 
all seemed in excellent spirits; the sound of their laughter 
floated in at the open window. 

Mr. Cherrywood came briskly into the room. He was a 
short, dapper, little man, with bright eyes and a quick 
speech. 

“Mr.—Dart? You want me? Have I the honour of 
your acquaintance?” He spoke courteously, but with a 
touch of surprise. 

Christopher bowed. 

“As yet, sir, you have not. I have something of a private 
nature to impart.” 

“Oh? Will you not be seated? We are quite private 
here. No, they will not hear you from the lawn. What 
is it that you wish to tell me?” A little of his cordiality 
had disappeared. 

Christopher drew off his gloves unhurriedly. In all 
things he imitated Roxhythe. From his finger he slipped 
the King’s ring and pushed it across the table to 
Mr. Cherrywood. 

Cherrywood picked it up, glanced at it, and rose. His 
manner underwent a change. 

“One moment, sir!” He went to the window, and shut 
it. “You come from His Majesty?” 

“I have that honour.” 

“I did not know you were one of us?” The tone was 
searching. 

“I am not,” said Christopher. “His Majesty’s envoy is 
ill. I am bidden to tell you that Church and Justin are not 
to be trusted.” 

“Well, well! Perhaps I knew that. You’ve a message? 
Or a dispatch?” 

Christopher extricated the two dispatches from his coat. 
He handed the smaller to Cherrywood, who broke the seal 
and spread the sheets before him. When he had finished 
reading he looked rather strangely at Christopher. 

“Oh! May I have the dispatch—for Monmouth?” 

Christopher gave it to him. He felt relieved that it was 
out of his hands at last. 


246 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I am to bear an answer to His Majesty, sir, as proof 
that I have delivered the packet.” 

“You shall have it. Excuse me for one moment!” He 
pocketed both documents and hurried out. 

Christopher picked up the King’s ring and put it on 
his finger. He felt an odd thrill at wearing it. 

An elegant, much-beribboned gentleman passed the win¬ 
dow and looked in curiously. With him was another still 
more elegant gentleman. He too stared in. Then he 
shrugged, and they passed on. Christopher heard him 
say something in French. 

Presently Cherrywood returned. He gave Christopher a 
sealed packet. 

“There is mine answer. You have the ring?” 

Christopher held up his hand. 

“That is well. Now, is there aught else you want of me?” 

“No,” said Christopher. “But there is something that I 
would like to tell you.” 

Cherrywood sat down. 

“Ah! Well?” 

“I met a certain Milward to-day in the town. I know 
him to be in Barillon’s pay. For reasons which we need 
not discuss he mistrusts me, thinking me an intriguer. I 
wish to warn you that he may suspect.” 

“Milward? Milward? Oh, ay, ay! Thank you 
Mr. Dart, that will be very well.” 

“He is a spy,” warned Christopher. 

“I shall be careful, I assure you. Is that all?” 

Christopher rose. 

“That is all. What a quantity of Frenchmen you have 
in the town!” 

Cherrywood followed him to the door. 

“Yes. Well, we are not at war. We suffer all parties 
to visit us.” 

“I have seen hardly any Dutchmen.” 

Oh, we have a few! Most Dutchmen are fighting, vou 
understand.” 

“I see,” said Christopher. “I am glad that we ceased 
war on Holland.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


247 


“Certainly. Yes.” Mr. Cherrywood bowed him out. On 
the steps they clasped hands for a moment. 

“I compliment you, Mr. Dart; I compliment you. You 
would make a good envoy. Perhaps we shall see you 
amongst us ere long.” 

“I serve Roxhvthe,” said Christopher. “I am no 
intriguer.” 

Cherrywood favoured him with another hard stare. 

“Oh! You serve Roxhythe. Well, well!” 

Christopher was not desirous of meeting Milward again, 
and he arranged to leave the town early next morning. 
He was both annoyed and disgusted when his enemy walked 
into the Setting Sun inn while he was at dinner. 

Milward espied him and came to sit at his table. 

“A piece of luck!” he commented. “I thought you were 
staying at the ‘William’?” 

“No,” said Christopher. “Are you?” 

“Oh dear no! I am at”—he paused. “The Flag of 
Orange.” 

Christopher disbelieved him on the spot. 

“We were finely diddled over your master,” continued 
Milward, presently. “I thought him naught but a court¬ 
darling. Dupont knew.” 

“Really?” Christopher was studiously polite. 

“Oh, indeed yes! Now, of course we know. Since ’70.” 

“Why since then?” 

“Why? Blister me, you’re a pretty young innocent!” 

“I am glad I find favour in your eyes,” bowed 
Christopher. 

“Is it possible that you don’t know? Didn’t you hear?” 

“I never listen to gossip,” said Christopher. 

Milward shook his head. He took a long drink. 

“You puzzle me, you know,” he said. 

“I am sorry,” said Christopher, and straightway changed 
the subject. 

He arrived in London six days later. He drove at 
once to Bevan House where he found the royal coach drawn 
up in the courtyard. The footman who admitted him 
said that His Majesty was with my lord. Christopher 


248 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


decided that nothing could have been more opportune. 
He gave the lackey instructions to pay the coachman, and 
raced upstairs to his room. He changed his travel-stained 
garments for his smartest suit, washed his face, and combed 
out his fair hair. Then he assured himself that Cherry- 
wood’s letter was in his pocket, and walked downstairs 
as calmly as he could. His cheeks were flushed; his 
eyes were very bright. He felt himself a man of some 
account; his patriotism flared high. 

Two lackeys stood before the thick curtain that shut 
off the library. Christopher waved to them to draw it 
back. 

“Sir,” expostulated one. “His Majesty is within, visiting 
my lord.” 

“I am aware of it,” said Christopher. 

Reluctantly the man held back the curtain. Christopher 
walked in. 

The King was seated with Roxhythe by the window. My 
lord’s lazy voice was the first thing that Christopher heard. 
Then Charles burst into a great laugh. 

“David, you rogue!” His eyes, wandering round the 
room, alighted on Christopher, who bowed. The laugh 
died on his lips, and a look of surprise came into his 
face. 

“Cordieu! ’Tis our young friend!” 

Roxhythe turned his head. It was characteristic of him 
that he showed no surprise. 

“You arrive at a' good moment, Chris.” 

Charles laughed again. 

“Thunder of God, but you are like your master! Do 
you imitate him, Mr. Dart? I did not expect you yet, and 
here you are as spruce as though you were off to a ball! 

I wonder, have you been to Flanders at all?” 

Christopher came forward and dropped on his knee 
before the King. It was one of the greatest moments of 
his life. 

“I have the honour to inform Your Majesty that my 
mission has been successful.” He offered Charles the 
packet. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


249 


The King took it. Roxhythe was contemplating Chris¬ 
topher with amusement. 

Without a word Charles broke the seal and scanned what 
was written on the parchment. He tossed it to Roxhythe 
and bent over the still kneeling figure. 

“Mr. Dart, I thank you. You have more than fulfilled 
my expectations.” He said no more than that, yet Chris¬ 
topher, listening to the grave voice, felt himself re-paid in 
full. He could not trust himself to speak. Dumbly he held 
out the signet ring. 

Charles slipped it on to his finger. Then he extended his 
hand.- 

Christopher held it to his lips as long as he dared. 

“Sire—sire-” he stopped. 

“Tell me,” said Charles, “is there aught I can do for you?” 

Christopher looked up into the melancholy brown eyes 
that yet held such a twinkle in their depths. 

“Your Majesty—overwhelms me. It is enough to know 
—that I have pleased Your Majesty—and that I have been 
—of some use to my country.” 

Roxhythe regarded the trees outside. 

“You are sure?” persisted Charles. “I would do aught 
that was within my power to do.” 

“There is nothing, Sir. I cannot thank you enough. I 
am very content.” 

“Then we shall hope to welcome you at Whitehall. 
Roxhythe must bring you.” 

“Your Majesty does me great honour.” Christopher 
rose, and looked across at my lord. 

“You are better, sir?” 

“I am very well, Chris. Were it not for His Majesty I 
had not remained in this room for so long.” 

“He thinks me a tyrant, Mr. Dart,” said the King. His 
solemnity had vanished. 

“I do,” sighed Roxhythe. “If you had not visited me so 
often, Sir, I were in my grave to-day from sheer depres¬ 
sion.” 

“Poor Davy!” The King smiled at him. “I deliver him 
into your hands, Mr. Dart.” 




250 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Your Majesty may rest assured that I shall have a great 
care for him,” said Christopher. 

It was not until after dinner that he was alone with 
Roxhythe. When the wine was before them and the serv¬ 
ants had left the room, my lord leaned back in his 
cliQir 

“Well, Chris, how fared you?” 

“Very well, sir. My journey was quite uneventful until 
I arrived at the camp.” 

“Oh? What then?” 

“You’ll never guess whom I met there!” 

“Then I shall not try. Whom did you meet?” 

“Milward.” 

“The amiable one! But how charming!” 

“It was not, sir. He—he bewildered me.” 

“How?” Roxhythe re-filled his glass. 

“He was very boisterous—by the way, sir, he knows now 
why we went to Holland in ’68.” 

“I suppose so. Go on.” 

“He asked me what fresh intrigue I was busy with. I 
dissembled, and then he said that he was not trying to 
squeeze me as he fancied we were at one now. What could 
he have meant?” 

“God knows. What else?” 

“It was all to that tune. He asked me if I were the King 
his messenger, and he said he was expecting ‘something of 
the kind.’ He seemed to think that I was in French pay. 
And he said that I puzzled him.” 

“The sun must have affected his brain.” 

“It almost seemed so. He was very strange. He told 
me that he knew now what manner of man you were. He 
spoke of 1670 and laughed heartily. He was surprised 
that I ‘did not know.’ I can only suppose that he is afflicted 
by Harcourt’s complaint. You remember how they 
suspected you at the time?” 

“Ay. Fools.” 

“I think Milward is a bigger fool than any of them. I 
was glad to be rid of him.” 

Roxhythe sipped his wine. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


251 


“Take my advice, Chris; do not heed these gossip- 
mongers.” 

“I do not. I never have heeded them. They suspect 
every one of disloyalty to the country. But I know!” 

“Yes. You know. And you too love the country.” 

“Above everything,” said Christopher simply. 

“So you would never join certain of our respected friends 
in their machinations behind the country’s back?” 

“I, sir? How can you ask? I would sooner die!” 

“Yet many people have warned you ’gainst my supposed 
nefarious dealings. You remain with me in spite of all?” 

“Why, sir, I laugh at them! Your nefarious dealings! 
Oh, ay, my lord!” 

“And if their suspicions were true: what then?” He 
looked full into Christopher’s clear eyes. 

“I—think—it would break my heart, sir,” answered 
Christopher unsteadily. “But then, it is not so, is it?” 

Roxhythe touched his lips with his napkin. 

“No. It is not so.” 

“Of course it is not!” smiled Christopher. “Oh, sir, I 
am very, very proud to-night!” 

“Are you?” said Roxhythe. 


CHAPTER IX 


Disillusionment 

Christopher settled down to his old life very quickly. 

England was in a state of unrest. In February of the 
next year Parliament met again. There was universal 
excitement, and some cries were directed against the King. 
Harcourt told Christopher that Charles was trying to 
dispense with a Parliament altogether. Christopher was 
amused. 

Roxhythe had lately fallen foul of His Grace of Buck¬ 
ingham, ever his foe, and Buckingham proceeded to wage 
war on him, writing catchy doggerels which circulated 
the coffee-houses, and sneering at the favourite on every 
opportunity. Roxhythe complained that he was becoming a 
nuisance. Then his Grace over-reached himself. He was 
very vehement on the subject of prorogation. He joined 
Shaftesbury in the popular cry that by the length of the 
prorogation the Parliament had ceased to exist. He 
employed all his caustic wit in this cause, and he grew 
excited. His section was out-voted, and he, Shaftesbury and 
Wharton were consigned to the Tower. Gossip whispered 
and gradually shouted that his imprisonment as one of 
the ring-leaders of the movement was due to my Lord 
Roxhythe’s influence. Christopher listened, observed my 
lord, and believed Gossip. My lord smiled and said 
nothing. 

In March Christopher received one of Roderick’s rare 
letters. He found it a bulky package and was surprised. 
Roderick was not wont to write at length. He settled 
himself more comfortably in his chair and spread the 
sheets before him. 

There was very little preliminary. Roderick inquired 
after his health, and after that wasted no time in giving vent 
to his feelings. 


252 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


253 


. .Ye knowe, my dear Chris, how I Do long to See 
You out of Roxhythe His Service. Once more I Implore 
You to quit him. With him Ye Breathe the Air of Intrigue, 
of all thatt is Vile. It is in no Peevish Spirit thatt I Warn 
You, but in my Zeal for Yr. Welfare, which I have ever to 
Heart. Ye are Young: it may be thatt Ye are Ignorant of 
the Machinations of This Man for his Infamous Master. 
We in Holland have learnt by Bitter Experience never to 
Trust to Charles His Word. Ye in England must Surely 
knowe By Now the Truth concerning thatt most Disgraceful 
Affair in 1670. We knew, very soone after, thatt Charles 
had sold himself to France in a Shameful Treaty made 
Secretly with Louis. We sawe how he contrived to Trick 
his Parliament into wishing for War on Us. We knowe, for 
the Prince has Zealous Agents, what Partt my Lord 
Roxhythe played in thatt Treaty. He did haggle with Louis 
on Charles his Behalf, and did arrange a Secret Meeting 
for Both Parties. Were Ye not so Blinded by Yr. Love for 
him, Ye would have seen the Truth from the first. A 
Doubt Assails me thatt Ye did knowe, and did Connive at 
the Deed. I tell my self thatt ye are too good a Patriot, 
but the Doubt remains. 

“Yr. King plays Fast and Loose with us. He did make 
Peace, Three Years Since, in ’74. But we knew then thatt 
his Hand had been Forced, and thatt he was not Desirous of 
Breaking from Louis. Else why did he Leave his Troops 
under his Profligate Bastard on this Soil? He did Finely 
Trick his Parliament, but he did not Deceive His Highness. 

“Last Year we did Realise thatt he was in Need of Money 
to squander on his Women, and his Pleasures, for he did 
send my Lord Roxhythe to Traffic againe with His Highness, 
giving him Fair Words, and demanding Tribute for his 
Master. His Highness would have None of it, for he doth 
knowe how Perfidious is King Charles. We did Expect then 
to see the English Troops Once More against us, and have 
not been Disappointed. We do apprehend thatt Charles 
has Sold Him Self to Louis yet againe. England, without 
the Knowledge of Her Government, stands against us. 
The Prince His Agents have Grave suspicions thatt there 


254 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


have been Secret Dispatches passing from Charles to 
Louis. They do knowe thatt M. Barillon was closetted 
very Often with the King Last Yeare. 

“And so I come to the Crux of the Matter. These 
same Agents who act for His Highness in England do 
knowe thatt a man went to the English Camp Last Yeare. 
This Man was You, Christopher. 

“I do Pray Heaven thatt Yr. Mission was Innocent, 
and Indeed, we have No Proof thatt it was not. We do 
but Knowe thatt Ye visitted the Camp when My Lord 
Roxhythe was a-bed, Wounded. It is Possible thatt Ye 
did but go as Many have Gone before You, but we Fear 
otherwise, knowing You to be in Roxhythe his Service. 
Hardly a Month from thatt date, the English Army had 
moved Secretly, to Join the French. 

“Oh, my deare Brother, I do Implore You to have no 
Dealings with King Charles! If Ye tell me Yr. Journey 
to Holland was Innocent I do Believe you, but a Grate 
Fear hath me in its Grip thatt Ye have been won to 
Roxhythe his Machinations by Yr. Infatuation for him. 
Christopher, pray consider what it is thatt Ye do! Think 
of Our Father his Grief were he Alive and knew thatt Ye 
were Working against the Country her Good, behind her 
Back, for a King who hath Neither Honour nor Decency; 
who does not Scruple to Betray his Country her Honour for 
a few Pounds! 

“Ye have Refused to Believe thatt my Lord Roxhythe is 
not to be Trusted; Ye have shut Yr. Eyes to his Perfidy, 
seeing only his Fascination. Ye must knowe, however, 
thatt he Counts no Cost, and hath no Moral Sense. He 
will gaine his owne, or his Master his Ends by Fair Means 
or by Foul. Ye knowe his Vaunted Love for King Charles; 
the Country Counts for naught with him. He setteth Love 
for Man Above Love for Country. 

“Christopher, I do fear thatt You too set Grater Store on 
Man than on Country, and on Right. Be advised by me 
who have seen so much of the Evils of the Day, do not lei 
this be so. Remember Ye are Yr. Father his Son! Have 
no Secret Dealings Either for Roxhythe or the King! 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


255 


Deal openly Always, and do not Work against Yr. Country, 
for I do Earnestly tell You thatt the Country in these 
Troublous Times Counts for more than All Else. The 
Country needs True Patriots More than ever it did; do 
not You join the ranks of those Unworthy Englishmen of 
whom the King is one, and Roxhythe another! I pray You, 
do not lightly cast my Warning aside, nor Sneer at it 
as Ye have sneered at all others. I have no Spite against 
Roxhythe; I warn you because I knowe what manner of 
man he is; because I will not have My Brother under 
his Influence. Naught but Harm can come of it; I 
implore You, be warned by me! 

“The Prince his Courage is undaunted by the Many 
Disasters thatt have befallen him. He doth hold the French 
King in Check, Daily growing Wiser in War, More Strong 
in Body. I would ye too might be Induced to Join him 
who is the One Honest Man...” 

Christopher read the letter through deliberately. When 
he came to the end he laid it down with fingers that 
trembled slightly. Every word rang true. At first his 
mind refused to grasp all that was set down before him; 
then, when the first numbness had passed he argued hotly 
with himself. Roderick had evidently believed the rumours 
of 1670. How often had he, Christopher, laughed at these 
rumours? But Roderick seemed to have proofs . . . 
Bah! Were the Dutch spies wiser than all others? They 
too had listened to rumour, and, because Roxhythe had 
travelled frequently to the Louvre, had jumped to con¬ 
clusions. It was not possible that the gracious King who 
had allowed him to kiss his hand, whom he believed in so 
implicitly, had descended to trafficking secretly with 
France! And Roxhythe, the lazy courtier, in very sooth an 
intriguer? Impossible! Yet . . . How many times had 
he been warned? How many people had questioned him 
concerning my lord’s movements? 

He referred again to the letter. 

. . for he did send my Lord Roxhythe to Traffic 
againe with His Highness . . .” 

Last year . . . That must have been when Roxhythe 


256 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


went, ostensibly, to Paris. Christopher had not known that 
he had gone to Holland. He had been left in the dark. 
Well! Why not? Was my lord bound to confide in his 
secretary? . . . But how many more times Kad he been 
left in the dark? If my lord could play the emissary to 
Holland, why not to France? Why had he never thought 
of that before? Supposing the ’70 rumours were true? 
Had my lord indeed haggled with Louis for the King’s 
private ends? Had he been instrumental in selling 
England? 

Again he took up the letter. 

. . And so I come to the Crux of the matter . . .” 

He read it through carefully. Peste! Roderick was 
morbidly suspicious! 

. . Hardly a month from thatt Date the English 
Army had Moved, Secretly, to Join the French . . .” 

Something seemed to seize his throat; he felt as though 
he were choking. These words of Roderick’s were based 
not on suspicion but on hard facts. Roderick was not the 
man to prevaricate that he might gain his own ends . . . 
But it could not be! Roxhvthe would never use him so! 
Nor would the King stoop to sell his Country to Louis. 
It was unthinkable, ridiculous! Charles was all that was 
most regal, most upright! Christopher remembered how 
he had extended his hand; he remembered the thrill that 
had run through him as he had kissed that hand. Surely, 
surely Charles was honest? And Roxhythe! It was 
impossible that he should have consented to use him 
deliberately, against his convictions! He did not believe 
it! He would not believe it! Sangdieu! He laughed 
at such senseless tittle-tattle! . . . 

. . You not belief’ me. You t’ink heem onselfish 
and ver’ good. Well, I warn you, eet ees not so. You 
remember t’at always and you not get hurt.” . . . 

De Staal . . . And de Staal had loved Roxhythe 
. . . The grave words were ringing in his ears—he 
could see the whole scene. It was nine years ago. How 
quiet the street had been! How peaceful was de Staal; 
how pathetic his love for Roxhythe! . . . 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


257 


“I—like you, Chris. I—don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Lady Frances . . . She had warned him repeatedly. 
What was it she had said? 

“. . . You think him very great, very good. Suppose 
—it were not so? Suppose he were not so true? . . 

Had he been blinded by his love for Roxhythe? Was 
my lord the ruthless schemer they had all thought him? 
Even Ashley had warned him. 

44 . . .1 fear he is not so indolent as he would have us 
believe ... I mistrust him. I have always mistrusted 
him ...” 

Realisation was dawning on Christopher; doubts pulled 
him this way and that. He would not believe—he did not 
believe . . . but—oh, God, if it were so! . . . 

Roxhythe came into the room in his usual leisurely 
fashion. Christopher ever afterwards remembered his 
appearance on that day. He was dressed in pearl grey 
velvet, with soft pink facings and sword-knot. The rosettes 
on his shoes were of pink satin; rubies sparkled in his 
cravat and on his fingers. He was carrying a ruby-studded 
comfit-box, given him by the King. 

“Russell waxeth very wroth over Buckingham’s 
imprisonment,” remarked my lord. He gave a twitch to 
his billowing shirt sleeve. “He and Coventry inveigh 
against me.” He glanced up and saw Christopher’s face. 
“Oh. Well, what now?” 

Christopher handed him Roderick’s letter. 

“Please—read that, sir—and deny—what is writ there! 
I—it has disquieted my mind.” 

Roxhythe sat down on the table-edge. He read the 
letter through in silence. Then he handed it back to 
Christopher. 

“May I ask why such nonsense should disquiet you?’ 

Christopher rose quickly. 

“It is nonsense, sir? There’s no truth in it?” His 
voice trembled relievedly. “And yet, sir-” 

Roxhythe shrugged. 

“There is a certain amount of truth interwoven, I grant 
you. The rest—bah! ” 



258 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Sir, this secret treaty with France that he writes of— 
it is a lie?” 

“My dear Chris, best ask His Majesty.” 

“Ah, don’t evade me! Roderick says that you were 
implicated in it! Harcourt feared it; Ashley too.” 

“Your memory is not of the longest, Chris. Did we not 
discuss this question at the time?” 

“Ay, sir. You told me then that it was a lie.” 

“Am I likely to tell you that it was the truth now?” 

“Tell me again, sir! You are not intriguing?” 

“I was not.” 

“I knew it! I knew it! But-” 

“Well?” 

“Roderick says that you acted envoy to the Prince of 
Orange last year. Roderick would not lie to me!” 

Roxhythe seemed to consider. 

“Why not?” he said at last. “I have done it before, and 
you too.” 

“It was different then! We acted for the country; 
Ashley was privy to it. Roderick says that this time you 
acted for King Charles’ private ends—to gain money 
for him!” 

“I admire your brother’s imagination, Chris.” 

“I would I could think it only that! But he writes so 
earnestly.” 

“Yes. I had noticed that he seemed concerned,” nodded 
my lord. 

“He is concerned. And, sir, if you can intrigue with 
the Stadtholder for the King, I suppose you can intrigue for 
him with Louis. You told me naught of your journey to 
Holland; I cannot help wondering how many times you 
have plotted without my knowledge.” 

“I wish you would sit down,” murmured my lord. 

Christopher ignored him. He was controlling himself 
with difficulty. 

“And now I wonder if it was indeed to Monmouth that 
I took that letter. At the time I thought—it strange—that 
I should give it to Cherrywood. I—oh, my lord, my lord! 
Tell me that my suspicions are without foundation! It is 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


259 


not possible that you should have used me as a tool! You 
could not have done it! You would not!” 

“My dear Chris, why all this excitement? I could not 
have done it. I would not! Foi/a/” 

“I wish—oh, how I wish that I could believe you!” 
cried Christopher. 

“Oh? Why can you not?” 

“Sir, forgive me if I malign you, but you have so often 
journeyed to France—I—and then when you were ill, I 
had to go—and—oh, I have been warned so many, many 
times!” He spoke very bitterly. “De Staal told me not to 
trust you; Harcourt, Ashley, Lady Frances, Roderick! 
And I—thought—them—fools.” 

“Belike they were.” 

“You mean?” There was suppressed eagerness in his 
voice. 

“Why, I mean that I have done you no harm nor am not 
like to.” 

“It was in truth a letter to Monmouth?” 

Roxhythe looked at him haughtily. 

“Is His Majesty’s word not enough?” 

“I wish I might be convinced! But you see what 
Roderick says! The army stands against Holland now. 
Everything comes back to me! Milward’s strange words 
which I did not understand; the presence of so many 
Frenchmen in the camp. Oh, my lord, don’t evade me! 
Or—” he stopped. “Is it possible that you too work in the 
dark? Do you know naught?” 

Roxhythe stiffened. His eyes expressed blank amaze¬ 
ment. 

“I? Cordieu , Christopher, do you take me for a 

catspaw?” 

Christopher took an uneasy pace across the room. 

“I suppose not. You were then privy to the whole 
affair. The King sold himself to France in very truth! 
You can deny it if you will, but something tells me that it 

* ~ 55 

IS so. 

Roxhythe twisted his rings. 

“It seems that I must explain. Sit down.” 



260 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHL 


Christopher sank into the nearest chair. 

“First,” my lord spoke sternly, “I’d have you remember 
the oath you swore to His Majesty.” 

“Never to divulge by word or sign—oh, ay! I see it 
all now!” 

“Endeavour to be less insane, Christopher. I did go to 
the Prince of Orange last year. King Charles is in need of 
money as your brother so sagely remarks. But the Prince 
is stubborn. He is imbued with the same false views that 
Roderick holds. Again I failed with him. So perforce, 
His Majesty turned to France. As to selling himself— 
pooh! He holds King Louis in the palm of his hand. He 
does not intend to make serious war on the Dutch, nor to 
further Louis’ interests abroad. He seeks only to squeeze 
Louis of money. It is true that we had some sort of a 
treaty, but you need not fear that Louis will profit by it.” 
He paused, looking at his secretary. 

“And this,” said Christopher, “is honour!” 

“It is a game, Christopher, called Politics. You cannot 
hope to understand the workings of the game; one must be 
bred up in it. You may not condemn that which you do not 
understand.” 

“I had sooner not understand,” replied Christopher. “It 
is too black, too dishonourable!” He laughed strangely. 
“Politics! To keep faith with no one! To try to trick 
your fellows!” 

“It is the law of life, my child.” 

“No, sir. I will never believe that. And it is not politic 
to work behind the Country’s back.” 

“The Country has not treated us exiles so well that we 
need consider it,” answered my lord. 

“The Country should stand first with every Englishman!” 

“So you say who have had naught but good from the 
Country.” 

“Nothing would make me alter my opinions!” 

Why, that is very noble! We look on this from 
different standpoints. I owe allegiance to none save the 
King.” 

And I—thought the King—Oh, I cannot bear it!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


261 


“You thought the King more than human. He is as 
other men, save that he has more brain than all your 
patriotic dunderheads clubbed together. What you call 
love for Country is in reality love for blundering, senseless 
policy which is not worthy of the name. Your honest 
statesmen would bring the Country lower than ever King 
Charles would. Do you think I have not experienced all 
your feelings? I thought the same as you when I was 
young. But I was wiser than you are. I saw that King 
Charles was the man to follow, not ‘the Country.’ I too 
had to choose which path I would tread. I chose to serve 
the King. I have seen a great deal in my time, Christopher, 
but never that the King worked harm on the Country. 
I have learnt to place my trust in him. You would do well 
to learn that lesson too. If you are to take an active part in 
politics of to-day, you must follow the King, or those of 
our number whom you believe to be ‘the Country.’ ” 

“I would follow them! At least they are honest!” 

“To what avail? What good is honesty in a world of 
vice? Is Louis honest? You know that he is not. What 
weapons shall we fight him with but his own?” 

“You do not fight him! You play into his hands!” 

“There speaks your ignorance. The King plays into no 
man’s hands.” 

“Save his own!” 

Roxhythe was silent. 

Christopher clasped and unclasped his hands. 

“I can understand that having chosen to follow the King 
you should speak in this vein. I can understand that you 
would do aught for him. But to trick me! to make me 
instrumental in selling England to France!—ay, my lord, 
you may say what you will, but that is what has been done! 
—I—it—oh, my lord, I trusted you so!” 

The pent-up cry left Roxhythe unmoved. 

“It was you or the King, Christopher. You should have 
followed your brother’s advice and left me long ago.” 

“I would I had! I would I had listened to Roderick in 
the first place! But I thought you so good! so honourable! 
And all the time you were deceiving me, lying to me as you 


262 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


lied to me in ’70 when I asked what you did in Paris! 
My lord, it would have been kinder to have told me!” 

A little hardness crept into my lord’s voice. 

“Mayhap. But you were useful to me. You shielded me 
from suspicion by your very ignorance.” 

“I—thought you cared—for me—a little! I loved you 
—so greatly! I would have done—anything in the world 
for you! And you—tricked me.” 

“I do care for you, Chris.” 

“Ah, no! You would never have treated me thus! I was 
—useful—to you.” 

Roxhythe shrugged and opened his comfit-box. 

“You make too much out of too little,” he said. “And 
you speak of matters above your head.” 

“It may seem a little to you, sir. You care naught for 
Country or patriotism. But I, I have been bred to think 
only of that! You knew it! You knew how I would have 
revolted from the task had I known the truth.” 

The brown eyes narrowed. Still colder became that 
passionless voice. 

“Exactly,” bowed his lordship. 

“I see,” said Christopher wearily. “You are as ruthless 
as they said. It did not matter what would be my feelings 
when I discovered the truth. The only thing that mattered 
was that King Charles should have his way.” 

“Your sagacity is quite astounding,” said Roxhythe. 

“And the King—I was so proud to be chosen for the 
task; so proud to kiss his hand; I believed in him so 
implicitly. And he joined with you in tricking me!” 

Roxhythe ate another comfit. 

Slowly Christopher picked up his brother’s letter. His 
mouth was very set, his eyes bewildered, terribly hurt. 

“I cannot as yet—quite realize—everything,” he said 
unsteadily. “It—it takes time, my lord, to undo—the 
belief—of years. And it has come so—suddenly.” 

“When you have considered the matter you will think 
differently,” replied Roxhythe, snapping his comfit-box. 
“There’s no harm done; only a jar to a rather fanatic love 
for Country.” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


263 


“I shall not think differently. I—I must think what I 
shall do. My—brain feels numbed. I—I can’t realize that 
you whom I loved and respected so have done this thing.” 

“ ‘This thing’ is so delightfully tragic,” remarked my 

lord. 

Christopher walked to the door. His hand trembled as 
he pulled back the curtain. 

“You’ll—give me leave, sir.” 

“Yes,” said Roxhythe. 

Christopher went out. 

For a long time after he had gone Roxhythe sat twisting 
his rings, and staring out of the window. At last he gave 
the faintest of sighs, and shrugged. The smile that came 
to his lips was not mirthful. 


CHAPTER X 


The Bitter Hour 

All that day and the next Christopher avoided 
Roxhythe. He was battling with himself, fighting against 
what he believed to be wrong. 

The blow to his patriotism had been severe, the blow to 
his love for Roxhythe severer, but what had been the 
severest of all was the blow to his pride. He would not 
admit it, but it was true. At twenty-eight pride is tender. 
It was not pleasant to think that he had been duped so 
easily and used as a catspaw. It galled him unbearably. 

Nothing could kill his love for Roxhythe. It had grown 
and deepened during nine years; a single blow was not 
enough to quench it. But the trust was gone. Never again 
could he believe in my lord. He might pretend, but he 
knew that in his heart would always be suspicion. He knew 
now that Roxhythe was the King’s chief adviser and 
negotiator. When my lord disappeared again, mysteri¬ 
ously, he would know that he was gone on secret business, 
nefarious business. Men would continue to question him; 
how could he quiet their fears, knowing the truth? If 
he assured these questioners of Roxhythe’s innocence he 
would be acting for my lord, against all that was upright 
and good. Yet if he left my lord, what else did life hold 
for him? All these years he had been wrapped up in this 
one man, managing his affairs, accompanying him almost 
everywhere, living for him alone. Everyone else had 
ceased to count with him; Roxhythe was the beginning and 
the end. 

Bitterly he reflected that he had learnt never to question 
my lord’s actions, to trust in him always, to take up the 
cudgels on his behalf. In return for this he had been 
tricked in cold blood. Roxhythe was ruthless; Christopher 

264 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


265 


saw that in his turn he was engrossed in one man. All must 
give way before the King, even he who had served my lord 
so faithfully for so long. Then came the still more bitter 
thought: Roxhythe did not care how he had hurt him. He 
could not, even in the moment of discovery, abandon his 
flippancy. He treated the whole affair as an amusing 
episode; he laughed at Christopher’s discomfiture. 

Christopher tried to imagine what life would be if he 
continued in Roxhythe’s service. It seemed impossible. 
His spirit rebelled against working for one who plotted and 
schemed behind the Country’s back. In time he might 
perhaps be drawn under by Roxhythe’s influence; he might 
become as cynical as Roxhythe; he might lose all his 
patriotism, even as Roxhythe had done. 

Of the King he could scarcely bear to think. Charles had 
cast his spell over him, had inspired him with enthusiastic 
loyalty. He had refused to listen to ill of him; he had 
thought him all that was best and most noble. Now that 
ideal was shattered and lay in the dust at his feet. 

Seated by the open window, looking out into the dusk, 
a great loneliness crept over Christopher. There was no 
one to whom he could speak; no one who would listen to 
the unburdening of his heart. He had sworn an oath to 
Charles that he would never disclose the secret of his mis¬ 
sion to Flanders. That secret must remain with him to the 
very end, an everlasting shame to haunt him all his life. 

He had wanted to serve his country. Instead, he had 
worked against her, helped to lower her honour . . . 

The wind blew in at the window, coldly, and moaned 
a little through the trees without. Only a few embers 
burned in the grate; the candles were unlit. Christopher 
did not care. He was cold through and through, but he did 
not shut the window. He was facing the first big crisis in 
his life, and he was terribly afraid lest he should play the 
coward’s part. 

He knew that his mind was made up and that he must 
leave Roxhythe. No argument was strong enough to con¬ 
vince him that it would be right to remain. Perhaps 
Roxhythe would trick him again did the need arise. There 


266 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


would never be trust in him now, and suspicion would 
surely kill his love. And Roxhythe cared nothing for him. 
He was merely a useful acquisition. He must leave 
Roxhythe. But it was hard. Love for man was greater at 
this moment than love for Country. Right must in the end 
triumph over wrong, but not without a struggle . . . 

Christopher looked round the familiar room. It had 
been his for eight years. A lump rose in his throat . . . 

Another aspect presented itself. Roxhythe had been 
good to him before this disaster. He had treated him more 
as a son than as a secretary. Did he not owe something to 
him? Why had Roxhythe been so good to him? Was it 
only that he might be of use to him? Christopher had set 
many uneasy minds at rest in 70, because he himself 
had believed in Roxhythe. Nothing is so convincing as 
innocence. Now that he knew the truth he could not set 
minds at rest. He could not pose and counterfeit, even if 
he wished. It seemed likely that Roxhythe would no longer 
have any use for him. 

Then Christopher’s head went down on the hard sill, 
despairingly . . . 

Roxhythe had a card-party that night. Christopher 
should have dined with him, and seen that all was in order. 
He could not face the inane gaiety, the senseless laughter, 
the foolish witticisms. He rose jerkily and took up his 
hat and cloak. In a little while the visitors would arrive; 
he would hear their voices floating up to his room; to-night 
he could not bear it. He went quickly out of the room and 
down the stairs. An amazed footman opened the door for 
him and watched him descend the steps. Christopher did 
not care what he thought; only one thing mattered, and that 
was that he should be out of the house before dinner. 

He did not return until after eleven. The same footman 
admitted him and afterwards remarked to his brethren 
that Mr. Dart looked for all the world as though he had 
seen a ghost. 

Christopher went slowly upstairs. A burst of laughter 
from the library made him wince. He was very 
tired . . . 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


267 


My Lord Roxhythe did not appear next morning until 
twelve o’clock. He came downstairs then, hat in hand, and 
his gloves already on. 

Christopher met him at the foot of the stairs, barring his 
passage. 

“My lord, may I speak to you—privately?” 

Roxhythe paused, his hand on the baluster. He stood 
just above his secretary, looking down into the pale face 
with eyes that were quite expressionless. 

“My dear Chris, I am pressed for time. His Majesty 
expects me.” 

“I can wait no longer, sir. His Majesty would not 
grudge me ten minutes.” 

The straight brows rose perceptibly. 

“My lord,” said Christopher earnestly. “I think you owe 
me this.” 

Roxhythe resumed his passage downstairs. 

“It is never wise to take that tone with me,” he remarked. 

Christopher laid a hand on his arm. 

“Sir, I do beg you will speak to me now! I—I cannot 
wait!” 

The hand was removed. 

“Neither can I,” said his lordship. He w r ent on calmly 
across the hall. 

“You will not?” cried Christopher. His eyes flashed. 

“I shall be in at three,” replied Roxhythe. The next 
moment he was gone. 

It was the one thing needed to clinch the matter for ever. 
If Roxhythe had acted differently, if he had exerted himself 
never so slightly to placate Christopher, love for man 
might had triumphed. But that was not Roxhythe’s way. 

Christopher fretted and chafed under the added wrong. 
By three o’clock there was no doubt left in his mind which 
way he should decide. 

He went to the library to wait for my lord. 

Punctual to the minute came Roxhythe. He surveyed his 
secretary coolly and laid his hat on the table. 

Christopher came forward. He was holding fast to his 
decision. At the sight of Roxhythe it threatened to slip 


268 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


away. No slight that my lord could inflict would ever 
destroy the magic of his presence. 

“I—suppose you—you have guessed why I want to speak 
to you, sir,” said Christopher unsteadily. 

Roxhythe drew off his gloves. 

“No. May I ask why you were not present last night?” 

The old flush rose to Christopher’s cheeks. 

“I—could not. I was in no mood for it.” 

“I am sorry,” said Roxhythe. “Perhaps you will inform 
me next time you feel like that.” 

“There will be no next time,” answered Christopher 
very quietly. 

“I am relieved to hear you say so.” 

“You do not take my meaning, sir. I desire to—to offer 
you my resignation.” His voice trembled in spite of all 
his efforts to control it. 

There was a long silence. 

“Oh!” said Roxhythe. “Very well.” 

So this was the end. Christopher walked slowly to the 
door. There was a buzzing in his ears, his feet were like 
lead. He put out his hand to draw back the curtain. He 
must hold his head high; he must not let Roxhythe see his 
misery. 

“Chris?” 

The drawling voice reached him, full of caress. He 
wheeled about, saw my lord’s outstretched hand, and 
stumbled back to where he stood, falling on his knees 
beside him, the hand pressed to his lips. There was a 
choking lump in his throat; desperately he clung to that 
strong, white hand. The fingers closed on his. 

“So you’ll leave me, Chris?” 

“I must, I must! My lord, how can I stay after—after 
—” he broke off hopelessly. 

“I see no reason why you should not.” 

“It—is impossible. I could—never—trust you again. 
If you went on King Charles his business — I should 
know, and — feel that I was helping to plot against my 
country.” 

“You rate yourself high,” said that even voice. “And I 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


269 


thought I told you that it is France, not England that we 
trick?” 

‘Tt is almost as bad. Oh, my lord, I have been taught to 
act honestly always—heaven knows I am wavering—but it 
is no honourable thing to trick any man by fair words! 
I cannot, cannot remain with you! There would always be 
suspicion; I should be of no further use to you, and—I 
should be wretched!” 

“Where is your vaunted love for me?” asked my lord 
sadly. 

Christopher kissed his hand. 

“It will always be there sir! Nothing could kill it—I— 
I would give my life for you.” 

“Yet when I ask you to stay with me you refuse.” 

“Do not—oh, do not! It means—sacrificing my honour 
—my pride—I—oh, cannot you see that it is impossible?” 

“Honour and pride count for more than Roxhythe?” 

“Sir, it is right against wrong! You might persuade me 
to remain with you, but always I should know that I was 
doing wrong. I—it is—oh, do you think it is not breaking 
my heart to leave you?” 

“Chris, try to look at the matter in a more sensible 
light. You assume that I am the greatest villain unhanged. 
In fact, you are melodramatic.” 

“I cannot look at it in what you call a sensible light. 
I can only see that you intrigue for His Majesty’s private 
ends, breaking treaties, selling England—and—I—I cannot 
be privy to it!” 

“Have I asked you to be privy to it?” 

“I have eyes, sir. I should know when you went to 
France what was your mission. I—could not—shield you 
from suspicion. People have always tried to squeeze me 
concerning you. How could I reassure them, knowing the 
truth?” He did not look up; he dared not. 

“Perhaps you are right,” said Roxhythe. He sighed. 
“I am sorry.” 

“I—I cannot make evasive replies; I cannot counterfeit. 
It might even be that I should—all unwittingly—betray 
you.” 


270 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You could not do that. I am not a clumsy intriguer. 
But I suppose you must have your own way.” Again he 
sighed. “We tread different paths.” 

“Yes—sir. You choose to follow King; I—I cleave 
to—Country.” 

“But mine, Chris, is the better part.” 

“No, sir, no. Yours is the—tempting part—but I believe 
that mine is the right.” 

“We shall not agree on that score,” answered Roxhythe. 
He looked round the room. “Oddsblood, I shall miss you, 
Chris. You have been with me for so long.” 

“Nine—years,” said Christopher, little above a whisper. 
“I, oh, my dear lord, why did you do it? Why did you 
trick me? I had never found out else! Why, why did you 
do it?” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“Is that the way the wind blows? I believe I could 
persuade you very easily if I tried.” 

Christopher shook his head. 

“No—do not try!” 

“I shall not. I’ll not have you here against your will. 
Nine years! You must have become a habit, Christopher.” 

“Yes—that is all. You will not—miss me for long. 
You will have another—secretary—you will forget that 
there ever was—a Christopher. ’Tis I who—shall not 
forget.” 

“Another secretary ... It seems strange.” 
Christopher’s hold on his hand tightened. 

“Don’t speak of it, sir! I—can’t—bear it!” 

Roxhythe bent over him. 

“Look at me, Chris!” 

The grey, almost blue eyes met his. 

“You mean it, Chris? You’ll leave me?” 

Christopher tried to wrench his gaze away but the steady 
brown eyes held his. He drew a deep breath. 

“Yes, sir. I—must.” 

Roxhythe straightened. He drew his hand away. 

“I thought I could bend you to my will, Chris,” he said. 
“It seems I was wrong. Well, what now?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


271 


Christopher rose. 

“I shall stay until you have—found a—secretary, sir— 
of course.” 

“Thank you. And then?” 

“Then—I do not know. I cannot think of the future—as 
yet.” 

Roxhythe looked at him thoughtfully. 

“One thing, Chris, I want you to remember always. 
Whatever happens, whenever you will, you may return to 
me. Don’t forget it, child. I shall welcome you back no 
matter when you come. And if you ever want help, call 
upon me.” 

“You—are very good, sir. I—will—remember.” 

Roxhythe nodded. He watched Christopher go out of the 
room. Then he picked up his hat and gloves. 

“So ends the one friendship,” he said aloud. “I 
wonder—is it worth it?” 















Book IV 


THE ONE PART 











0 










CHAPTER I 


The New Master 

In April of 1677 Christopher left Roxhythe after nine 
long years and took rooms in Cheapside. After the first 
struggle he seemed to sink into a state of apathy. He 
hardly stirred from his rooms and he received no one. At 
present he was living in some horrible nightmare; he could 
not even now realise all that had happened. 

In May of the same year Lady Frances returned from 
Scotland where she had been staying. She made her 
curtsey to the King at Whitehall and stayed by his side for 
some time, laughing and talking with him in a reminiscent 
vein. After that she exchanged frivolities with Lord 
Buckhurst. It was at that moment that Roxhythe appeared 
on the scene. 

He stood for some while by the King, but presently he 
perceived his cousin and came across the room towards her. 

Lady Frances gave him her hand. 

“Well, David!” She eyed Lord Buckhurst with her head 
on one side. “Dear me, Charles, I believe Lady Finchley 
wants you!” 

He laughed in answer to her twinkling glance. 

“Which means that you do not? Very well! I’ll go!” 
He strolled off to join Killigrew. 

Lady Frances smiled up at Roxhythe. 

“Charles is very charming, is he not?” she said. “Sit 
down, David. How are you?” 

“The same as ever,” he answered. “And you?” 

“How do I look?” she parried. 

“Marvellous!” he said lazily. 

“Then that is how I feel. How is Chris?” 

My lord regarded the rosettes on his shoes. 

“I really don’t know. He has left me.” 

Lady Frances gasped. 


275 


276 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Left you? Christopher? Good gracious, Roxhythe, 
what has happened?” 

“We had a difference of opinion and he decided that our 
ways lay apart.” 

Lady Frances to some extent recovered her composure. 
She laid a compelling hand on his arm. 

“Roxhythe, you must have shown yourself very vile! I 
insist on knowing everything!” 

“I am sorry to have to disappoint you, my dear. Suffice 
it that we agreed to part.” 

“It does not suffice! Something terrible must have 
happened to induce Chris to leave you.” 

“No, not at all.” 

“Roxhythe, do not play with me! He is—disillu¬ 
sioned?” 

“Thoroughly.” 

“He knows that you are not—so idle?” 

My lord raised his brows. 

“Oh, pho! You know very well that I see through your 
pose! Others may be blind, but I am not. You are the 
King his man.” 

“Is not this a rather public spot wherein to discuss such 
matters?” 

“Has Chris found out?” 

“Why not ask him?” 

“I shall! Have no fear of that! But I want it from 
your lips. Oh, come, David! I too have lived in intrigue; 
I am not blameless myself. Chris discovered that you were 
plotting?” 

“Something of the sort!” 

“And so he left you? No, that is not enough. You 
used him?” 

“You should have been born a man, my dear.” 

“My mother knew better. Did you use Christopher?” 

“You weary me,” said Roxhythe. “You were never wont 
to do that. I did use him.” 

“Then you are utterly without a heart, without shame! 
You are loathsome!” said my lady vehemently. 

“You always knew that I had no heart. Shame is an 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


277 


unknown quantity. But as to loathsome . . . h’m!” 

“It is true. Oh, David, why did you do it?” 

“I forget. There was a reason.” 

“For heaven’s sake don’t be flippant!” she snapped. 
“Where is Christopher?” 

“In rooms. 94, Cheapside.” 

“I shall tell him to visit me. Perhaps he will be more 
explicit!” 

“I doubt it.” My lord smiled insufferably. 

“We shall see. I suppose you have killed his love for 
you?” 

“On the contrary.” 

“Do you mean to say that Christopher still adores you?” 

“I believe so.” 

“And you sit there and tell me that in that calm, dis¬ 
interested way! Roxhythe, I have never found you less to 
my taste!” 

He looked into her flashing eyes. She was sitting very 
straight. 

“Well, my dear, there is a remedy.” He rose. “Pray 
give me leave!” 

She nodded angrily. My lord strolled back to the King. 

Next day a note was brought to Christopher. The 
serving-maid bore it up to his room. 

Christopher was trying to write to his brother. The task 
was a difficult one. It was hard to acknowledge himself 
to have been in the wrong throughout. 

The serving-maid gave a sniff and proffered the note. 
When he saw Lady Frances’ handwriting a little colour 
came to Christopher’s pale cheeks and he tore the letter 
open. It was very short. 

“Deare Chris.—Come and See me this After Noon.— 
F.M.” 

“Do they await an answer?” asked Christopher. 

“No, sir.” The girl twisted her apron between her 
fingers and giggled a little for no better reason than that 
she admired him. “The footman went away at once.” 

“Thank you.” 

The maid departed, clattering across the floor in shoes 


278 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


two sizes too large for her. She was something of a con¬ 
trast to the well-trained lackeys at Bevan House. 

That afternoon Christopher surveyed his many suits 
deliberately. If he was to wait on Lady Fanny he must 
be carefully dressed. At the back of the cupboard hung 
a brown velvet suit, heavily laced with gold. Christopher 
fingered it dreamily. He had worn this coat last when he 
had returned from Flanders . . . Then there was the 
blue cloth with its cream facings. That had been bought 
for a garden-party at Lady Pommeroy’s house. Roxhythe 
had worn apricot velvet . . . He put it back slowly. 
The lilac velvet? No . . . That had been his summer 
suit down at Bevan last year . . . The grey cloth with the 
pale blue ribands? . . . Not that. Roxhythe had 
approved of that dress. What was it he had said? . . . 
Almost roughly Christopher thrust it back into the cup¬ 
board. From its depths he drew a green coat laced with 
silver. He had seldom worn this, thinking it ugly. Well, 
it should be worn now. He shut the cupboard. 

An hour later he was ushered into Lady Fanny’s boudoir. 

Frances looked up quickly, scanning his face as he 
made his leg. She was shocked at the change that had 
taken place. There was no sparkle in his eyes, no colour 
in his face. He had aged extraordinarily since last she 
had seen him. 

“My very dear Chris!” She came forward, hands out¬ 
stretched. 

He took them in his. 

“How kind of you to invite me, Lady Frances! I did 
not know you were in town.” His voice was graver than 
of old. 

“Dear boy, it was more of a summons!” she smiled. 
“Now come and sit down beside me and tell me every¬ 
thing.” She drew him to a couch. 

“I don’t think that there is much to tell,” said Chris¬ 
topher, trying hard to sound unconcerned. “You heard 
that I have left Roxhythe?” 

Yes, Chris. Tell me all about it.” She patted his hand 
as she spoke. “You know that I can be discreet.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


> 279 


“It’s nothing, Lady Fanny. I found that I wanted to 
leave—so I—left.” He spoke with would-be lightness. 

“Chris, that is not enough. I have seen Roxhythe, and 
I know that something has happened.” 

“Oh, no! I was tired of playing secretary. I am a man 
of leisure now!” 

“And do you like it, Chris?” 

He looked away. 

“Tell me, dear boy ...” 

“I can’t!” 

“You can. Roxhythe has treated you shamefully I 
know.” 

A wry smile twisted his lips. 

“Don’t say you warned me!” 

“Of course I shall not! He used you in some way? 
tricked you?” 

“That I cannot tell you. But you will be glad to know— 
that my eyes are open—at last.” 

“I am not glad, dear. I am very, very sorry. You 
thought he was-” 

“I thought he was the soul of honour and truth. Well, 
I was mistaken.” 

“He has hurt you badly, then. It was bound to happen. 
He lives only for the King. It is his one good point.” 

“Not at all. He has many good points. Don’t think that 
I have ceased to care for him! I love him as much as 
before—but I—cannot live with him. Shall we talk of 
something else?” His eyes pleaded. 

“Yes, Chris. We will talk of what you contemplate 
doing.” 

“I hardly know. I thought I would continue to be a man 
of leisure. I find I must have some occupation.” 

“Quite right. What have you thought of?” 

“A secretaryship, I suppose.” 

Lady Frances nodded briskly. 

“You’ve someone in mind?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Then I know the very thing for you!” 

Christopher looked apprehensive. 




280 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“What is it, Lady Frances?” 

“Do you know Sir Richard Worth?” 

“One of the Country Party?” \ 

“Yes; under Cavendish.” 

“I believe I have seen him. I do not know him.” 

“It so happens that he is in need of a secretary. Jasper 
knows him. You must apply for the post.” 

“Oh—oh—I do not think so!” 

“Indeed yes! It is the very thing for you. You want 
occupation, and it had best be with a man very different 
from Roxhythe.” 

“But I doubt—I am not fitted for—public work.” 

“You will learn. Your name stands in your favour-” 

“And my nine years’ service to Roxhythe stands well 
against me.” 

“That is true, of course. However, I shall see what can 
be done. I have bidden Sir Richard to dinner to-night. I 
shall talk gently to him.” 

“Please do not, Lady Frances! Indeed, I do not think 
that I want to be his secretary!” 

“Whose then?” 

“I don’t know—I-” 

“Very well then! No, you must not argue! You do not 
want to do anything but mope at home. And I say you 
are not to. Have you any objection to Worth?” 

“No. I know nothing about him.” 

“Then apply for the post. Ah, Chris, please!” 

“It’s very kind of you, Lady Fanny. I’ll apply for it. 
After all, what odds does it make whom I serve?” 

“There! I knew you would be sensible. And you’ll 
wait on him to-morrow?” 

“If you like.” 

“I do like. And Chris—don’t wear that dress! Indeed, 
green becomes you not.” 

He smiled. 

“I’ll go clad in sober black.” 

“No, nor that either. Wear that nice blue coat worked 
with cream.” 

There was a slight pause. 




THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


281 


“Yes,” said Christopher. 

He did go, although against his inclination. When he 
arrived at Worth’s house he was ushered into the study, 
which was severely furnished and dark, and which looked 
out on to the backs of houses. Christopher shivered. A 
single ray of sunlight contrived to squeeze in at the 
window and showed a million specks of dust. 

The door opened. A short, middle-aged man came into 
the room, Christopher’s card in his hand. 

“Mr. Dart?” The voice was fussy, slightly peevish. 

Christopher bowed. 

Sir Richard clasped his hand. 

“Yours is an old name. I knew your father. A most 
noble gentleman.” 

Again Christopher bowed. 

“Yes. Well, will you be seated? Oh, there are papers 
on the chair! Allow me!” He cleared the documents on 
to the table. Christopher thanked him. 

Worth sat down at the writing-table and rested his 
arms on it. 

“Lady Frances Montgomery advised me of your coming 
to-day. A charming lady! Charming!” 

Christopher suppressed a smile. Evidently Fanny had 
exerted herself to captivate Sir Richard. 

Worth came back to earth. 

“Charming, yes. I understand you have been secretary 
to my Lord Roxhythe?” 

“I have had that honour, Sir Richard, for nine years.” 

“Well, well! May I ask why you left him? Do not 
think me impertinent! But it is just as well to know every¬ 
thing, is it not?” 

This was almost amusing. Worth was indeed a contrast 
to Roxhythe. Christopher found himself thinking of 
another interview that had taken place at eleven at night 
in rooms overlooking the river. How typical of my lord 
that was! 

“Er—certainly, sir. I left because I wanted a change. 
He will speak for me, I know.” 

“Ah, yes, yes, of course! That is excellent. You under- 



282 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


stand that this is rather different work from what you 
have been accustomed to?'’ 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t think that I mean to infer that you are not capable 
of undertaking it! But I think it would be a great change. 
Is that not so?” 

“Yes, sir. I have done little save manage the affairs of 
my lord’s estate.” 

“Just as I thought. Exactly. No matter. Of course I 
need hardly say this to James Dart his son, but great dis¬ 
cretion would be required of you an you worked for me. 
Here we handle State affairs which must not be talked of.” 

“I understand that, sir.” 

“Ah, yes, yes, naturally. I am sure that you would 
prove discreet. You said, I think, that Lord Roxhythe 
would speak for you?” 

“I did.” 

“Yes. You'll forgive me, Mr. Dart, but I marvel that 
you stayed so long in his service.” 

Christopher stiffened. 

“Indeed, sir?” 

“I had thought that James Dart his son would not have 
been in the company of such as Roxhythe.” 

“Sir, I think it as well to tell you that Lord Roxhythe 
commands my highest regards.” 

“Dear, dear! Of course he has great fascination. I 
have heard of it. A powerful man.” 

“Very,” said Christopher. 

“Forgive me again, but do you realize that the atmos¬ 
phere of my house is very different from Lord Roxhythe’s?” 

Christopher glanced round the untidy room. 

“Yes,” he said. The faintest of smiles flickered across 
his mouth. 

“I live very quietly. I fear I am no brilliant courtier. 
I am but a patriot. I do trust you are not imbued with 
Lord Roxhythe his views.” 

“I regret, sir, I cannot tell you what are his views.” 

“That is very well, very well. And so you desire to fill 
the post of secretary to me?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


283 


Christopher sighed. 

“That is my desire, sir.” 

“Yes. Well, Mr. Dart, I will not disguise the fact that 
good—above all discreet—secretaries are not easily come 
by these days. Your name stands greatly in your favour. 
And of course Sir Jasper Montgomery’s recommendation is 
sufficient. With your permission I will write to Lord 
Roxhythe. And then, if you are agreeable, I should 
suggest a week’s trial.” 

“Very well, Sir Richard. I shall try to satisfy you.” 

“Of course, of course! Let me see—have you not an 
elder brother?” 

“Roderick, sir. He is with the Prince of Orange.” 

“Is that so? Very interesting to be sure. Though we 
cannot afford to lose good patriots in these times.” 

Christopher rose. 

“Roderick has been with the Prince for many years, 
sir. He is very devoted.” 

“Ah yes, naturally. A remarkable young man, is he 
not? Remarkable.” He ushered his visitor out. 

Christopher walked slowly down Bishopsgate Street. 
Suddenly he laughed mirthlessly, and his hand clenched 
on his glove. What a fool he was not to return to Rox¬ 
hythe! Why should he enter the service of this uncon¬ 
genial man? Why should he not go to his master and 
beg to be allowed to come back? But he knew that he 
would never do that. A fool he might be, but he knew 
that he was acting rightly. He thought how Roxhythe 
would have enjoyed the interview with Worth, and laughed 
again. There swept over him an overwhelming longing to 
see that tall, graceful figure again, to hear the lazy voice, 
to feel the pressure of those tapering fingers. He walked 
on, biting his lip. 

Two days later came a letter from Roxhythe. Chris¬ 
topher’s hands trembled as he broke the seal. 

“My Deare Chris.. —Who in God’s Name is Worth? 

Some Psalm-singing Puritan, I’ll be bound. Eschew 

his Company. I spoke of you Very Highly, though I 


284 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


was minded to Malign you when I saw who your Future 
Master was to be. 

“My secretary is a Fool. I implore you to take Pity 
on me. Or if Ye will not, at least Visitt me Some 
Day.— Roxhythe.” 

Christopher folded the missive tenderly and slipped it 
into his pocket. Every nerve urged him to go to Roxhythe 
who wanted him, but his will held him back. Once 
in my lord’s presence the spell would be cast over him 
again, and all the old agony would return. 

He answered the letter at length, and told my lord that 
as yet he could not face an interview. He assured Roxhythe 
of his undying affection. It was a pathetic, wistful letter 
that tried hard to be cheerful. 

My lord read it and laid it aside. 

“A pity,” he reflected. “He was so much more restful 
than this dolt.” 


CHAPTER II 
The Coming of William 


“My dear David, it is a marvellous scheme.” 

Roxhythe turned his hand so that the rings on it flashed 
in the sunlight. 

“It seems very well. But what says the Prince?” 

He was walking with the King in the Privy Gardens at 
Whitehall. 

Charles shrugged. 

“He has refused hitherto, but this time I think he will 
consent.” 

“Oh. And what says the Lady Mary?” 

“She’s a child. Therefore foolish.” 

My lord smiled. 

“I thought so. And the Duke?” 

“David, there are moments when ye would try the 
patience of a saint! Do you expect me to listen to James 
his plaints?” 

“After all, she is his daughter,” murmured Roxhythe. 

“He should not count her above the nation,” returned 
Charles piously. 

Roxhythe’s shoulders shook. 

“Oh, lud!” 

Charles bit his lip. Then he too burst out laughing. 

“Fie on you, David! This time I have the nation’s good 
at heart.” 

“Very well, Sir. So the Lady Mary must be sacrificed.” 

“Sacrificed!” 

“Sire, you have had but a fleeting glance of your nephew. 
And that was seven years ago. You have not seen your 
nephew’s court.” 

“No. Is it still so dreary?” 

“Ineffably. I do pity the Lady Mary.” 

285 


286 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“She will grow accustomed to it,” said Charles com¬ 
fortably. “At all events the thing must be done.” 

“It is wise, I grant you. But you were never so set on 
it until now. Do I see the hand of Danby?” 

“Partly. He is mad for it. I think he is suffering 
from an attack of patriotism. He is subject to them.” 

“Sir, Danby is a waverer. He is greatly disliked.” 

“He will last a little longer. He has his uses.” 

Roxhythe frowned. 

“True. But not much longer. When does the Prince 
land?” 

Charles plucked a rose and twirled it between his fingers. 

“Next week. Odds, I am anxious to see him again.” 

“Does he know for what he is invited?” 

“I suppose so. You say he is no fool.” 

“No. Therefore I expect him to comply very readily 
with your desires. I never understood why he refused 
before. He is very secret.” 

Charles nodded. They pursued their way along the 
ordered walks. Presently the King waved his hand towards 
the south side of the gardens where were the Duchess of 
Cleveland’s apartments. 

“Bab swears she is for Paris,” he remarked. 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“I gather her Grace of Portsmouth has annoyed her?” 

“Bab was ever a termagant. I hope she will return, 
though I have been worn to a shred by her passions. Mine 
is a hard lot.” 

Roxhythe looked inquiringly. 

“Why? Because two women quarrel?” 

“Oons, no! I was thinking of this marriage.” 

“I thought you were so eager for it?” 

“On the one side I am; Louis is coming too close. But 
on the other side I do not wish to offend him. He’ll take 
this very ill. However, I hope for peace.” 

Roxhythe was amused. 

“What! Do you think that the dreary argufyers at 
Nimeguen will have done at last?” 

“I do trust so. I count on it.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


287 


“You are grown sanguine, Sir,” said Roxhythe drily. 

Across the lawn came Danby, hurrying. He bowed to 

the King. 

“Sire, the latest news is that Buckingham, Salisbury, 
and Wharton humbly submit, and plead your mercy.” 

The King looked at his favourite. 

“Very proper,” said my lord. “And Ashley?” 

“Oh, Shaftesbury is obdurate, sir! He appeals to the 
law.” 

“Does he so?” said Charles, amused. “What good does 
he think will come of it?” 

“Heaven knows, Sir! I think he hopes to raise an 
outcry.” 

“Very likely. Well, let him appeal. He is out of 
harm’s way. What of the others, Davy?” 

“I should release them, Sir, an they are properly 
repentant.” 

“You hear, Danby?” 

“Yes, Sir. Will you sign the orders?” 

“Not now. Some other time.” 

“Very well, Sir.” Danby bowed and walked away. 

“Vengeance is satisfied, Roxhythe?” 

“Amply, Sir. He’ll not annoy me again.” 

“If he knows whom he has to thank for his imprison¬ 
ment.” 

“Oh, he knows!” replied my lord. “He probably realizes 
the futility of fighting against it.” 

“I am glad that you are not my enemy,” grimaced 
Charles. 

********* 

Next week, on the day of the Prince’s arrival, the great 
hall at the Palace was crowded. ihe King stood by 
Lord Danby, talking gaily; a little to his left sat the 
Queen, Roxhythe at her elbow, the Ladies Mary and Anne 
behind her. Lord Dorset was near the door, in a knot of 
courtiers; Killigrew stood by the window, one of another 
group. Near the King was the Duke of York; his wife, 
Mary, sat beside the Queen. 

The room was a riot of colour, and over all was a buzz 



288 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


of conversation. Then, suddenly, fell a hush. The great 
curtain at one end was swung back; into the hall came a 
slight, plainly dressed young man with auburn curls falling 
about his hawk face. In his wake were some half a 
dozen gentlemen. 

The King stepped forward. As he moved his silks and 
velvets rustled. 

“My dear nephew! We do give you welcome!” 

Everyone was craning to see the Prince. Many remem¬ 
bered him, but there were many who had never till this 
moment set eyes on him. 

Roxhythe noticed very little difference in William. He 
had aged somewhat; his face was keener and more lined. 
He dressed as soberly as ever, and his manner lacked the 
courtier’s polish. He seemed strangely out of place in 
the midst of this gay throng. 

William bent the knee, kissing the King’s hand. 

“I am honoured to be invited once more to Whitehall, 
Sir,” he said. He spoke English well, but with a Dutch accent. 

Charles patted his shoulder. 

“ ’Tis we who are honoured,” he said. “Come, let me 
present you to Her Majesty!” He led William forward. 
“You remember Prince William, madame?” 

Catherine smiled lifelessly, extending her plump white 
hand. 

The King’s eye roved round the room. 

“I think you know most of us, William. I’ll not weary 
you with introductions!” He bowed to the Duchess of 
York. “Permit me to present to you Prince William, 
madame.” 

Mary bent her head. 

The King smiled at the fair, mischievous girl behind her. 

“Come child!” 

The younger Mary came to him, swaying her brocades. 
The King took her hand. 

“You have already met our niece, William.” 

William looked at her searchingly as he bowed. The 
full lips pouted a little, the big eyes were downcast. Mary 
curtseyed. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


289 


“Then we have your uncle, William. James, where are 
you?” 

The Duke came forward and took the Prince’s hand. 

“We give you welcome, William.” 

Again the King looked round. 

“I’ll not fatigue you, my poor nephew, with needless 
presentations. Suffice it is that there stands Lord Dorset, 
whom you know; over there, Lord Danby, whom you do not 
know; beside him, Killigrew; a little to the right, our 
good Sedley. A worthless set, I assure you.” 

A shout of laughter w T ent up. 

“They set me at naught,” complained the King, twinkling. 

William smiled mechanically. He never approved of 
his uncle’s lack of formality. 

Charles beckoned to Roxhythe. 

“David! . . . There is one here, William, whom you 
know better than us all. Our very dear Roxhythe.” 

William turned sharply. Roxhythe made his profoundest 
leg. 

“I am delighted to see Your Highness in England again,” 
he said. 

“Thank you, milor’. I too am delighted to be here. 
Sire” ... he made a sign to his suite. “May I present 
my friend Bentinck?” 

The King was graciously pleased to extend his hand. 
One by one William presented his little court. Charles 
had some good-humoured word for each. When Roderick 
made his bow, he detained him. 

“Mr. Dart? We are very pleased to meet you. We 
do know your brother.” 

Roderick bowed again, flushing. He disapproved of 
Charles most strongly, but there did not live the man who 
could resist his fascination. 

Charles addressed himself to William. 

“We grudge you our countrymen,” he smiled. “We can 
ill spare our patriots.” His glance took in Mynheer 
Heenvliet. He drew William to a couch and waved his 
hand to the rest of the room. 


290 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You may all continue your conversations!” 

He kept the Prince beside him for some moments, and 
then he suggested that William might like to retire. 
William assented thankfully. He went out, escorted by 
his suite. 

Roxhythe strolled up to the King. Arm in arm they 
walked to one of the windows. 

“He has not changed much,” said my lord. 

The King shivered. 

“Still the iceberg, only that now he is more icy. I had 
forgotten his eyes.” 

“They are rather wonderful, are they not, Sir? And 
you have not seen them flash.” 

********* 

William surveyed his bedchamber silently. Everything 
was very gorgeous, very rich. He turned to the three men 
who were with him. 

“I am tired,” he said. “The journey was very tedious. 
What have we to-night?” 

Heenvliet answered him. 

“A State dinner, Sir. You would do well to rest.” 
William nodded. 

“Yes. How close it is in here! Dart, will you open 
me that window? And then I will be alone for a while. 
Bentinck, stay with me.” 

The two other men went out. William sank into a chair. 
“What an atmosphere! What splendour!” 

Bentinck sat down. 

“It is a marvellously well appointed palace, Sir. His 
Majesty was very gracious.” 

“Yes. I had forgotten that this was your first visit. You 
see that my uncle commands great respect for all his lack 
of etiquette.” 

“A curious people these English,” commented Bentinck. 
“But King Charles is very royal for all his joviality.” 

“I have always observed it. You saw my bride to be?” 
“Yes, Sir. She is comely enough.” 

“And pert.” William sighed. “I suppose it must be.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


291 


“She is very young, Sir.” 

“But she has been bred in this atmosphere of luxury 
and vice. And her father is a Catholic. God knows how it 
will end.” 

Bentinck spoke soothingly. 

“Your Highness is despondent to-day. So young a girl 
should not be difficult to influence.” 

“Mayhap. Did you remark Lord Roxhyt’e?” 

“I did, Sir. It was my first sight of him. He is very 
high with the King, I am told.” 

William looked up. 

“Oh? You have had speech with one of them?” 

“With one Digby, Sir, while you were with the King. 
It seems that this Roxhyt’e is very powerful.” 

“I know. I mislike him, and yet—” he broke off, clos¬ 
ing his eyes. Presently he opened them again. “A State 
dinner, you said?” 

“Yes, Sir. In your honour. Shall I tell Jan to put out 
your dress?” 

“Thank you.” 

Bentinck left the room. When he returned the Prince 
was frowning slightly. 

“William, did you tell him the orange satin?” 

“No, Sir. Do you wish to wear it?” 

“I think so. We’ll not appear shabby before these 
English.” 

“Very well, Sir.” Again Bentinck went out. 

********* 

It was not until next evening that Roderick visited his 
brother. He found him in, and was taken at once to his 
room. 

Christopher came forward. 

“Well, Dick!” 

They clasped hands. 

“I expected you,” said Christopher. He drew a chair 
away from the window. “Sit down. I have ordered 
dinner.” 


292 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“You were very sure of me,” smiled Dart. “As it 
happened it was hard to leave His Highness. They feast 
him again to-night.” 

“Yes? I thought you would come, though.” He moved 
to the door. “Excuse me one moment.” 

Roderick heard him call to the serving-maid. This new 
Christopher was almost a stranger to him. 

“Well, Chris! After seven long years!” 

“So it is! I’faith, it does not seem as much. Did you 
arrive without mishap?” 

“A fairly smooth passage. It is good to be in England 
again.” 

“It must be. How have you fared since I saw you?” 

“Very well. I have been at the Prince his side through¬ 
out.” 

“Then you have seen much. How is the Prince?” 

“Tired after the gaieties of last night. We are ill-used to 
such late hours. We live very quietly when we are not in 
camp.” 

“Yes? I suppose there were many people present 
yesterday?” 

“The room was crowded. I saw some familiar faces, but 
there were many whom I did not know at all. Lord Danby 
for one.” 

Christopher smiled. 

“Oh, we have suffered Danby for some time now. An 
elegant gentleman, is he not? Quite amusing when he 
likes” 

“You know him?” 

“I have met him several times at Bevan House. Was 
Roxhythe there last night?” 

Roderick looked at him narrowly. 

“Yes. My Lord was in high good spirits. He had us all 
a-laughing many times.” 

“I expect so. And Sedley?” 

“Yes. Chris, I was very pleased to hear that you had 
left Roxhythe.” So he blundered tactlessly on to the raw. 

“Were you?” 

“You saw the truth of what I said?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


293 


A little of my lord’s famous manner entered into Chris¬ 
topher. Quite unconsciously he adopted that soft drawl. 

“I really forget what you did say. I left Roxhythe for 
private reasons.” 

Roderick stared at him. Then he smiled. 

‘‘Very well, we’ll leave it at that.” 

Christopher opened his eyes rather wide. 

“Certainly we shall leave it at that. Oh, I have an 
invitation for you!” 

“For me?” 

“A very dear friend of mine wants to meet you. Lady 
Frances Montgomery.” 

“Not the Duke of Rochefort’s daughter?” 

“That is right. Wife of Sir Jasper Montgomery. She is 
my lord’s cousin and the sweetest, kindest lady I have ever 
met.” 

“So! Well I shall be delighted to see her. When are 
we invited?” 

“When we like. She is always at home in the afternoon. 
I’ll take you whenever you are at liberty.” 

“That will be best. I cannot say as yet, as I do not 
know what commands His Highness may have for me.” 

Dinner arrived noisily. The serving-maid, conscious of 
responsibility, breathed hard through her nostrils as she 
laid the places. 

Christopher had ordered a very recherche dinner. Life 
with Roxhythe had taught him much in this respect. 
Roderick prepared to enjoy himself. 

Christopher started to carve a fat partridge. 

“You have heard my latest news?” 

“No. What is it?” 

“Why, I am secretary to the dullest dog in town! 
Richard Worth.” 

“I do not think I know him. Who is he?” 

“He belongs to what Roxhythe calls “our respected 
Country Party.’ He seems to have known my father. In fact 
he never refers to me other than as ‘the son of James Dart.’ 
He lives in an atmosphere of fuss and dust.” 

Roderick laughed, accepting the partri dge. 


294 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Really? Why the fuss?” 

“Heaven knows! He is perpetually worried, and con¬ 
ceives that the cares of the nation rest on his shoulders 
alone. He gives every order twice, imagining that by so 
doing he shows himself a very sharp man. He is most 

wearisome.” 

“He must be. A contrast to Roxhythe.” 

Christopher ground his teeth. 

“Quite. My lord implores me to eschew his company.” 
“Oh—! You still visit Roxhythe?” 

“I have not done so as yet. He wrote to me.” 

“Indeed! Chris, why are you so secret? I want to 
know how matters stand between you and Roxhythe.” 
Christopher laid down his fork. 

“My lord commands my love and loyalty,” he said 
deliberately. 

Roderick was puzzled. 

“Still?” 

“Always. I told you many years ago that I should con¬ 
tinue to love him in spite of all your prognostications. 
Well, I have. He is the kindest master ever a man had.” 
“Ah? And you trusted in him as you swore you would?” 
Christopher passed him the wine. 

“Of course.” 

“And your trust was betrayed?” 

“No. Why should it have been?” 

“Do you forget that I know that you were in Flanders 
last year?” 

Christopher flung back his head. As he laughed he 
showed all his white teeth. 

“Oh, lud! Roderick you were on the wrong track then! 

I went to Flanders for my own pleasure! Odds, but I was 
amused when I read your letter!” 

“May I ask why you went to Cherrywood?” 

Of course you may ask. I went to gain a permit to 
visit the camp.” 

“Oh . . . But why Cherrywood?” 

He happened to be one of the few in town that day. 
Ihe Duke and his suite were out chasing.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


295 


“Chris, is that the truth?” 

“The truth? What in God’s name do you suppose? Is 
it likely that I should bear secret dispatches to Mon¬ 
mouth?” 

“I confess I hardly thought so. And yet—” 

“You are of a suspicious turn of mind, Dick. I am not 
the man to go on a secret errand.” 

“Perhaps you were tricked into it?” 

“Perhaps I was. So tricked that I have no memory of 
delivering any documents at all. Perhaps I went to 
Flanders in a trance; perhaps I was drugged and the papers 
foisted upon me!” 

“There is no need to mock me,” said Roderick stiffly. 
“Of course I believe your word.” 

“Thank you.” Christopher pushed his chair back. He 
was very pale. 

“No Dart ever acted treacherously towards his Country,” 
went on Roderick. He eyed a pasty favourably. “No 
Dart ever lied. Naturally I believe you.” 

Christopher got up and flung the window open. 

“How close it is in here! Let me—recommend that— 
pasty, Dick. A little more wine?” 

“Thank you. Dear me, you fare well, Chris.” 

“Yes,” said Christopher. He shut the window and 
glanced round the room. “I fare well, as you say.” He 
smiled, but it was not a happy smile. 


CHAPTER III 


La Keroualle 

My Lord Roxhythe escorted His Highness round the 
Privy Gardens. William surveyed the scene interestedly. 

“It is almost—Holland!” he said. 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“His Majesty is very proud of the garden. He copies the 
Dutch style as you see.” 

“It is very beautiful,” said William. “I am glad that 
you brought me here.” 

“I thought Your Highness would appreciate the place. 
Will you walk a little? There are some very fine trees 
round the corner.” 

“I should like to.” For the first time William looked at 
Roxhythe with something of friendliness in his eyes. 

“You gauged my tastes correctly, sir!” 

“Why, I am satisfied then!” My lord led the Prince 
along the neat walk. 

William touched his lips with his handkerchief. 

“You have brought me here for a purpose, of course. I 
wonder . . . can I divine it?” 

Roxhythe knew his man. 

“I am quite sure you can, Sir. I pave the way for 
Danby” 

A smile flickered across William’s thin lips. 

“The way needs paving?” 

“They seem to think so. And Danby is so tactless.” 

“Tact ... I am to be approached cautiously?” 

They had come to an arbour. A stone seat presented 
itself to William’s notice. He sat down. 

“Highness, we have dealt with one another before. I 
have too high an opinion of you to oil my tongue. Once 
I did so, and you routed me, horse and foot.” 

“This time you have a different message I take it. Well.” 

296 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


297 


“As Your Highness knows, I am to request you to marry 
the Lady Mary.” 

William nodded. His eyes were fixed on a distant 
peacock. 

“I need hardly say that the alliance will prove greatly 
to your advantage, Sir.” 

The hazel eyes rested on his face. 

“Will prove . . . ?” 

“Why not, Sir?” 

“You take too much for granted, milor\” 

“No. Your Highness admitted that you knew my errand 
before I spoke. I take it you knew before you came to 
England. And you are here.” 

“I see. There is really nothing to be said, is there?” 

“Nothing, Highness.” 

William continued to watch the peacock. 

“Tell me one thing, milor’. Of what Faith is the 
Princess?” 

“Of your own, Sir.” 

“Ah? That is the truth?” 

“Why should I seek to deceive you? ’Twere to no 

purpose.” 

William said nothing. The peacock strutted behind the 
tree. 

“What does King Charles want of me?” asked William 
at length. 

“Naught but this alliance, Sir.” 

“No compact? no treaty?” 

“None that Your Highness does not desire.” 

“Always the smooth answer. There are no conditions 
attached to the marriage?” 

“None, Sir.” 

“Then he hopes that I shall consider myself beholden 
unto him. Yet I do not greatly desire the marriage.” 

“King Charles considers it politic, Sir. Louis grows too 
arrogant.” 

“And the English too uneasy. Am I to understand that 
my uncle seeks to throw off the French yoke? Does he 
stand by me?” 


298 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“His Majesty has always wished to stand by you, 
Sir.” 

The thin lips sneered. 

“He blows hot and cold,” said William. “I have learnt 
how far he may be trusted.” 

Roxhythe snapped off a dried twig. 

“Permit me to say, Highness, that you do not as yet 
understand my master.” 

William raised his eyes. There was a disconcerting 
gleam in their depths. 

“Milor’, if you think that you do not know me.” 

Roxhythe bowed. 

“Then I have still something to learn, Sir.” 

“I think that you have many things to learn, milor’. 
Among them that it is not wise never to act honestly by any 
man.” 

“Highness, when have I acted dishonestly by you?” 

William smiled sadly. 

“Long ago, milor’, you came to me with an infamous 
proposal. I rejected it. So you trafficked in the name of 
your master with the French King. Later you came to me 
again, giving me lies and fair words. Again I rejected your 
proposals. So once more you went to Louis. What faith 
shall men have in you?” 

My lord opened his comfit-box. 

“Sir, it seems that you do not know me. Roxhythe cares 
for no man’s opinion.” 

“It’s very bravely spoken, milor’, but there comes a time 
in every man’s life when the good opinion of others counts 
for much.” 

My lord hesitated between a pink and a mauve sweet¬ 
meat. Finally he chose the pink. 

“I am conceited enough to think that I can stand alone, 
Sir.” 

“You do not stand alone,” said William unexpectedly. 
“You have the King behind you. But there will come a 
time when you will wish that you had not destroyed all 
men’s faith in you.” 

Roxhythe put away the comfit-box. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


299 


‘’Your Highness appears to have great knowledge of my 
affairs,” he said. He was faintly amused. 

“I do but know what everyone knows, milor’. You count 
no cost. \ ou ruined Falmouth for your pleasure; you 
thwarted Cavendish the same. You tricked the Country 
Party some years ago. You have sacrificed all for one 
man.” 

“All?” 

“Honour, friendship, loyalty. What will come of it, 
milor’?” 

“It remains to be seen, Sir. I am surprised that you 
take such an interest in one so debased.” 

“Perhaps it is because I admire brain in any man. 
Perhaps because I realize what you might be, milor’. In 
a good cause you were invaluable. But you are incon¬ 
sistent. Like the wind, you veer first one way in your 
policy, and then the other. I know that you possess great 
influence over my uncle. Yet you do not exert it in any 
way for the good. It is a thousand pities. And they tell 
me you were a soldier.” 

Roxhythe seemed to sigh. 

“That is long, long ago, Highness.” 

William did not answer. Down the gravel walk was 
coming the King with the Duchess of Portsmouth on his 
arm. He was listening to something she had to say, his 
dark head bent slightly over hers. Then he laughed and 
patted her cheek. So they came to where the Prince was 
seated, Madame’s fine eyes glowing with merriment. 

William rose. 

“I have admired your gardens, Sir. Milor’ Roxhyt’e 
showed them to me.” 

The King cast a contented glance round. 

“I am pleased that you like them, William. I was at 
pains to design them after the Dutch fashion. You in 
Holland understand the art.” 

“But no tulips!” said William, smiling. 

“The season for them is over. We had a gay show in the 
spring. Has Roxhythe shown you the little lake?” 

“No, Sir. Not yet.” 


300 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Oh, you must see that!” He bore his nephew off. 

Roxhythe was left with the Duchess. She sat down in 
William’s lately vacated seat. She was very beautiful to 
look on, framed by the roses in the arbour. 

“Milor’, sit down!” Always she spoke French with 
Roxhythe. “Yes. So here is our little Prince.” 

“Is it the first time you have seen him since he arrived, 
Madame?” 

“No. But it is the first time that I have seen you since 
then. I have had speech with Barillon.” 

“Have you? I find that Barillon palls on one.” 

“Assuredly!” The slow, fascinating smile dawned. 
“He is so worthy. And he does not like to see the Prince 
in England.” 

“If only he had told us sooner ...” deplored 
Roxhythe. 

“He is uneasy in his mind, le pauvre!” 

“He usually is uneasy,” sighed my lord. 

“Without cause, hein? But this time he has cause. He 
listens with both ears to rumour.” 

“How unwise!” 

“Perhaps. He thinks the Prince has come to wed the 
Lady Mary.” 

“And you?” 

“Me, I think so too. I know more than ce cher 
Barillon. It is true, I am assured. The King has said as 
much. But what of King Louis?” 

Roxhythe fixed a rose in her hair. Its soft gold tint 
harmonized with her gown. 

tw You should always wear flowers, madame. So few 
women can.” 

“Aha! C’est joli?” 

“ C’est merveilleux.” 

“Another here you think?” She touched her breast. 

Roxhythe considered it. 

“Yes. That is perfect.” 

“Oh, for a mirror!” she sighed. 

^ou will never make me believe you have not one, 
madame.” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 301 

“Yes. You know us, nest ce pas?” She regarded him 
gravely. 

“I have had experience, you see,” said my lord. 

“You know how to lead us away from the point; how to 
turn our minds from main issues. La-la! How weak is 
woman! But me, I am la Keroualle.” 

“And I am—Roxhythe.” 

“In fact we are well-matched. What of Louis?” 

“It is a question you best can answer, madame.” 

“I can answer, yes. When you have answered.” 

“What is it you would have me say?” 

“I would have you tell me what it is that Charles means 
to do.” 

“Do you admit ignorance, madame?” 

“Part ignorance, Roxhyt’e.” 

“Then who am I to know more than you?” 

“You have said—Roxhyt’e. You have the King’s whole 
confidence; I have but half.” 

“I had thought that what you lacked in plain speaking 
your wit would have supplied.” 

“Sometimes. And sometimes my surmises need con¬ 
firmation. Will Charles break faith with Louis?” 

“Because of this marriage?” 

She nodded, watching him. 

“It seems a slender excuse,” said Roxhythe imper¬ 
turbably. 

“Does he require an excuse?” 

“If Louis grew too arrogant he might be glad of one.” 

“And if he does not?” 

“Then the marriage is too slender an excuse.” 

“So I thought. A warning.” 

“A concession to uneasy Puritan spirits.” 

“That also. I may take it that Charles wishes Louis no 
ill?” 

“Madame, His Majesty is far too good-natured to wish 
any man ill.” 

“Evasive. Well, milor’, one thing I will tell you: King 
Louis will be furious at the marriage.” 

“It is to be deplored.” 


302 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I think he will not readily unite with Charles again.” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“No?” 

“No. And you, milor’: Louis thought you at one with 
him. He trusts still to your influence. You said once that 
it would be exerted in his favour. On which side do you 
stand?” 

“On neither, madame.” 

“That is bold, Roxhyt’e. You seek to offend King Louis?” 

“By no means. I work for Charles. If another French 
alliance is possible it has my support.” 

“Safe words, Roxhyt’e. You are not privy to this 
marriage?” 

“I am privy to nothing save my master’s interests.” 

“Which do lie in France. Is that what you would 
have me understand?” 

“You have said it, madame.” 

“And I may say it to Louis? You work for him still?” 

“Have I ever worked for him?” parried my lord. 

“You have furthered France’s cause with your King. 
We have great faith in your influence.” 

“So it seems. You may tell King Louis that I am of the 
same mind as ever.” 

Madame bent her head to smell the rose at her breast. 

“Which means that Charles is too. Well.” 

“David, you have been charming Louise away from me! ” 
cried a gay voice. The King was coming towards them, the 
Prince at his side. “And who arranged the rose in your 
hair, sweet?” 

The Duchess lifted her face to his. 

“You like it, Sir?” 

“ ’Tis admirable. Roxhythe his work?” 

“In truth he is a flatterer,” said madame. A smile 
trembled at the corners of her mouth. 

“A rogue,” amended Charles. “William, here be two 
rogues!” 

“But one is too lovely for such a title,” said the Prince. 

Madame’s eyelids fluttered in momentary surprise. She 
threw out her hands. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


303 


“Now which of us does he mean?” 

“Can there be doubt?” smiled William. But his eyes 
were hard. 

“La-la! Your Highness will offend one of us! Now, 
which is it to be?” 

“I’ll say that you are both beyond comparison. You 
make a well-matched pair.” There was a glitter in the 
hazel eyes now. The thin lips still smiled. 

“Soho!” said madame, and nodded at Roxhythe. “What 
did I say?” 


CHAPTER IV 


The Meeting 

Lady Frances received the Darts very cordially. She 
succeeded in captivating Roderick, no easy task, and he 
afterwards told his brother that she was the most charming 
woman he had ever met. 

Fanny was anxious to know how Christopher liked his 
new master. She was much entertained by his description 
of Worth’s vagaries, and she thought that Christopher must 
be recovering from his awful depression. She realised, 
however, that his engagement with Worth would not last 
long. She had never thought that it would, but it served 
to distract his mind for the time. 

Montgomery appeared for a few minutes, especially to 
see Christopher. He, too, wanted to hear the boy’s opinion 
of Worth. They retired to a couch together. 

Lady Frances drew Roderick to the window-seat, a little 
apart. 

“So you have not seen Chris for seven years, Mr. Dart? 
It is a long time.” 

“Too long,” said Roderick. “I wish I could induce him 
to come back to Holland with me in the Prince his suite.” 

“Oh!” Lady Frances nibbled her finger-tip. “I don’t 
think so. We cannot spare him.” 

Roderick hesitated. Then he leaned forward. 

“Lady Frances, I know you have been very good *o 
Chris. May I speak plainly?” 

“Please do!” 

“Then, I can see that the boy is unhappy.” 

“At present, yes. I think he will recover.” 

^ “Not here. Forgive me if I am impertinent, but 
Roxhythe is too close. He preys on Christopher’s mind. 
He should go away.” 

Lady Frances was silent for a moment. 

304 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 305 

“Perhaps you are right. But I do not think that he 
will.” 

“I am afraid not. In spite of himself he is clinging to 
Roxhythe. Lady Frances, what has happened I do not 
know, but I can guess. It has been a terrible blow to 
Chris. He must have cared for Roxhythe quite absurdly.” 

“He still cares for him. Roxhythe has the power to 
endear everyone to him—when he chooses. Believe me, 
up till a short time ago, he has been more than good to 
Christopher. It even surprised me who have known him 
from the cradle. In his way he is very fond of Chris. But 
only in his way.” 

“Madame, he evidently treated him very badly at the 
end. Chris would not have left him for a whim.” 

“Oh, I agree! Roxhythe can be a devil. I warned your 
brother years ago.” 

“And I. He was obstinate. And it has broken him.” 

“Nonsense! He is young. He will recover.” 

“It has broken his faith in mankind. No, do not shake 
your head, Lady Frances, I speak of what I know. Chris¬ 
topher, before he entered that man’s service, was the most 
innocent-minded youngster possible. He believed in the 
goodness of man. Now he does not. He is bitter.” 

“Oh no!” she protested. “Chris could not be.” 

“Very faintly, I admit. But the bitterness is there. He 
has had a rude awakening, and it has quite changed him. 
He will never again be the same joyous Chris.” 

“He is quieter, of course, and more repressed—” 

“And less frank.” 

“Oh—do you think so?” 

“I am sure of it. He fences when I question him; he 
has become almost impenetrable. Once I could read him 
like an open book.” 

“You don’t make enough allowance for his increasing 
years, Mr. Dart. Remember, when you last saw him he was 
growing up. Now he has grown. The boy is a man.” 

“It is not only that.” Roderick stared moodily across the 
room. “How I wish that he had never met Roxhythe!” 

“No. Roxhythe has matured him.” 


306 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Matured him wrongly. He has given him the courtier’s 
manner, the intriguer’s speech, the cynic’s heart.” 

“Fiddle!” said Lady Frances emphatically. “Fiddle!” 

Sir Jasper came towards them. 

“I am very churlish,” he smiled. “But I must go. These 
are busy times, Mr. Dart. Fanny, will you excuse me?” 

“How tiresome of you!” sighed my lady. “I suppose I 
must.” She watched him leave the room. “He is very 
hard-worked,” she said. 

Private conversation with Roderick was at an end, so 
Lady Frances induced him to recount some of his life 
abroad. 

Christopher found that his brother could be quite inter¬ 
esting when drawn out of his shell. In the middle of the 
recital the door was flung open. 

“The Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe!” announced 
the footman portentously. 

Roderick broke off. Lady Frances cast an agitated 
glance around. 

“I do not receive,” she said. 

The footman became flustered. It was evident that 
Roxhythe was close. 

Christopher had risen. He was rather white, hut quite 
composed. A small pulse was throbbing in his throat. 

A leisurely footfall sounded. My lord had followed the 
lackey. He came into the room, typically languid. 

The footman cast his mistress an apologetic glanGe, and 
vanished. 

My lord bent over his cousin’s hand. 

“My fair Frances, I felicitate you.” 

“Why?” she asked, a trifle peevishly. 

Roxhythe waved his hand to the blue hangings of the 
room. 

“The admirable setting,” he answered. He bowed to 
Roderick. “Well met, Mr. Dart.” Then he looked at 
Christopher, and smiled, holding out his hand. “My dear 
Chris!” 

Christopher went to him quickly. He carried my lord’s 
hand to his lips and held it there for a moment. 


rHE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


307 


“What a charming reunion!” remarked Roxhythe 
blandly. “I am come at a lucky moment.” 

Lady Frances fanned herself slowly. 

“Pray sit down, David! You are so large.” 

Roxhythe chose a high-backed chair with arms. He 
turned to Christopher. 

“Tell me, Chris, how is your Worth?” 

Christopher smiled. His heart was leaping within him, 
but an apathetic calm seemed to have settled above it. 

“He is a sore trial, sir. He asks me the same question 
three times within the hour, and he is most unrestful.” 

My lord was pained. 

“Are you gibing at me, Chris?” 

“I wonder!” said Christopher, and laughed. 

Roxhythe turned to Roderick. 

“Christopher long since discovered that it was my foible 
that I could not have an unrestful companion. He has 
never ceased to poke fun at me on that score.” 

Roderick answered perfunctorily. 

Lady Frances stopped fanning herself and entered into 
the conversation. 

Presently Roderick looked across at his brother. He 
stood up. 

“Oh—already?” asked her ladyship. 

“We have trespassed too long,” said Christopher. “Why, 
we have been here an hour!” 

“You were not wont to be so polite,” pouted Fanny. 
“But I’ll not press you to stay. Mr. Dart, I hope you will 
visit me again. You may bring Chris!” 

“You are very kind,” bowed Roderick. “I shall avail 
myself of that permission.” 

As Christopher bent over her hand Frances whispered 
hurriedly. 

“I am sorry, Chris! Indeed, I had no idea—” 

“Why it’s nothing,” he answered. “Sooner or later it 
had to be.” He kissed her fingers again. Then he went to 
Roxhythe, who was talking inanely to Roderick. “My 
lord—” 

Roxhythe turned. 


308 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Are you going, Chris? When do you intend to honour 
me?” The brown eyes were almost pleading. 

“Some day,” said Christopher. “Not—quite—yet.” 

My lord’s fingers held his firmly. 

“Don’t let it be too long, child. I miss you.” 

The young mouth set tightly. Christopher did not look 
at him. 

When they were gone, her ladyship looked straight into 
Roxhythe’s eyes. 

“Are you a devil?” she asked, deadly quiet. 

“I had not thought so, but what an amusing notion! 
Perhaps I am.” 

“You knew that Chris was to be here to-day!” 

“Did I?” 

“I’ll vow you did! Or you found out of my footman. 
Why did you come?” 

“I wanted to see him.” 

“Why? To keep the wound open?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“I suppose you wish now that you had not destroyed his 
faith in you. You want him back. I can tell you that he 
will never return to you.” 

“Can you? We shall see.” 

“I shall try to induce him to go away!” 

“Certainly. I shall not worry myself unduly. I only 
wanted to see him.” 

“Then it was hateful of you! You might have known 
that it would be worse for him after seeing you! You are 
vile!” 

“No. Only human.” 

“Inhuman!” 

Roxhythe laughed. 

Lady Frances sank back against the cushions. She gave 
a tiny sigh. 

“No. I suppose you are just Roxhythe.” 

“A new species, my dear.” 

“Sometimes so dear; mostly so cruel.” 

“Fanny, you are morbid! Confess, you have a great 
kindness for me?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


309 


“Alas, yes.” 

“This is most harrowing,” said my lord. “Why alas? 
We have always been very good friends.” 

“I know. I have nothing personal against you. But, 
oh, David! leave Christopher in peace! You have broken 
him; don’t try to make it worse.” 

“It was not my intention.” 

“It is what you are doing. You are trying to get him 
beneath your sway again! You will not do it, but it is 
cruel!” 

“Then if I shall not do it, why worry?” said my lord. 


CHAPTER V 


Discord 

When William of Orange was wedded to the Lady Mary, 
in November, England rejoiced. On the eve of the 
wedding-day the streets of London were packed with jubi¬ 
lant citizens who made bonfires, and cheered lustily the 
King, the Lady Mary, and the Prince of Orange. They even 
cheered, though faintly, the Duke of York, who having at 
last consented to the marriage, was now putting a good face 
upon it. Enthusiasm, therefore, waxed great. Protestant 
successors were ensured to the throne, and the alliance 
undoubtedly pointed to a lasting split between Charles 
and the hated Louis. 

Amid the festivities there was one who rejoiced not at 
all. This one was the French Ambassador, M. Barillon, 
who had received disquieting tidings from his royal 
master concerning the marriage, and knew that he was like 
to receive more. Nor was he mistaken in his conviction, 
for when my Lord Danby set before Louis tentative pro¬ 
posals for peace with the United Provinces, his Most 
Christian Majesty rejected them in no mean terms. He was 
very angry, and he recalled the harassed M. Barillon so 
soon as my Lord Danby showed signs of taking a firm 
stand against France. 

In his position as secretary to Worth, Christopher was 
closely in touch with all these proceedings. His interest in 
them grew steadily. Through bitter experience had he 
learnt to mistrust the King, and at first he viewed Charles’ 
patriotic spasm with a sneer. But when supplies were voted 
for an army to go into Holland against France, some of 
his mistrust died. When troops were indeed sent to 
Holland, it faded almost entirely. He threw himself into 
his work with renewed fervour, feeling that at last he was 
working for the one incorruptible party. 

310 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


311 


Then came dissension, and he was puzzled. He was 
present at many turbulent discussions, and he listened in 
growing amazement to my Lords Russell and Roberts, who 
were of a sudden seized by a fear that the troops were being 
raised, not for war on France, but for the King’s private 
ends. Hot arguments ensued, some men denying the impli¬ 
cation, others defending it, and a few holding themselves 
neutral. Chaos followed, and the nation, catching the 
panic which had spread from the Country Party to the 
Commons, cried aloud to have the army disbanded. It was 
then that Christopher discovered something that increased 
tenfold the load on his mind. These men whom he deemed 
so upright were, unwittingly or not, playing directly into 
the French King’s hands. Even Lord Russell, patriot that 
he was, was communicating through Barillon against the 
throne. 

From his position as onlooker, Christopher saw clearly 
how Louis was fanning the flame of mistrust for Charles 
in the Country Party. When he realized that Louis and the 
Country Party were virtually in league against England, he 
was at first staggered by the shock. That the Country 
Party did not themselves realize this he fully acknowledged, 
but the fact that they should descend to communication 
with an openly enemy country against their own King 
filled him with sick disgust. Another ideal was shattered 
and lay in the dust at his feet; once again he had followed 
a path which he believed to be right, and which had 
proved to be wrong. 

He handed his resignation to Worth; he could not be 
implicated in such negotiations. 

Again he stood by himself, filled with a great loneliness, 
and an overwhelming sense of his own puniness. Back 
came the old longings, the old struggle. If only he could 
return to Roxhythe! Roxhythe, who did not vacillate, 
who saw clearly, who worked calmly for one end. After 
all, was not his the better part? The Country Party were 
no more honest than was he, and they were dishonest not 
that they might the more successfully serve a definite 
object. They wavered and played false in their search lor 


312 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


what Christopher was gradually coming to think a vague 
ideal. They were divided against themselves; they knew no 
set purpose; they were swayed this way and that. But 
Roxhythe knew no wavering; he was unflurried; he stood 
firm. 

In the face of his present difficulties and uncertainties 
Christopher’s need of him was greater than ever it had 
been before. His whole soul was yearning for Roxhythe; 
only his sense of right prevented him from going back. 
Then came days and nights of unceasing struggle, of hope¬ 
less unhappiness. Until now Christopher’s life had been 
placid and well ordered, filled with a great love. All 
this had been torn suddenly from him. Roxhythe had been 
his anchor; he had leant on him more than he knew. Now 
the support was gone, and he stood alone. He had thought 
to find peace with Worth, working for his country. That 
too was swept away. Life seemed to him a giant discord; 
a mass of complexities and unhappiness. There was no 
truth in mankind, only lust for power and money. 

Two words thrummed in his brain: my lord. How 
many times had he repeated them, an ache in his throat, a 
mist before his eyes! To no purpose. It was all at an 
end: the happiness, the trust, the blissful years of com¬ 
panionship. Only the love remained, the love that nothing 
could kill; and the memories, bitter-sweet. Nothing else 
was left . . . 

At Court Charles was busy. Since Louis was angry, 
Louis must be placated. He sent Roxhythe to Paris with 
assurances of good faith. Roxhythe had a stormy interview 
with Louis. Louis plainly intimated that he would have 
no dealings with my lord. He had learnt that Roxhythe 
was without scruples; he had been informed that my lord 
had furthered the royal marriage, even taken part in the 
negotiations; he had trusted that my lord would exert all 
his influence to prevent it, and to promote France’s 
interests; he had understood that my lord was working 
for him in England; he now saw how empty were my lord’s 
fair words. 

His Majesty was most incensed. He strutted in his 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


313 


wrath. Roxhythe remained as imperturbable as ever. He 
answered Louis smoothly. The marriage was necessary; 
England’s fears had to be set at rest. To which Louis 
replied that England’s fears might have been quelled in 
some other way, less insulting to his Majestic Person. 
Roxhythe grew more and more bored. His Majesty hardly 
understood the temper of the English people. Majesty 
replied that one thing he understood passing well, and 
that was the fickle temper of his cousin. Roxhythe 
became patient. He assured Louis of King Charles’ 
unswerving loyalty to his secret ally. Louis thereupon 
snapped his august fingers. He, Roxhythe, still worked for 
a binding treaty with France; it had been beyond his poor 
might to hinder the marriage negotiations. His Majesty 
had over-rated his influence. But Majesty retorted that 
he had over-rated the weight of his word. Roxhythe had 
done nothing in England to further the French cause. He 
had spoken, years ago, of raising dissension in the 
Commons over a possible marriage between William and 
Mary. Where had been the dissension? Everything had 
run as smoothly as it could! Roxhythe alluded gently 
to many dissensions raised in the past for Louis. Louis 
flung back at him that he had sought to trick his Most 
Christian Person into trusting him. He knew now that 
my lord played into King Charles’ perfidious hands alone. 
Roxhythe was pained. His Majesty grossly misunderstood 
his attitude—and his master’s. Louis was a little 
mollified. He consented to listen to King Charles’ message. 
But he would give no answer. 

Roxhythe went back to England knowing that in France 
his day was done. 

Charles was momentarily cast down by the news that 
his favourite had not succeeded in his mission, but his 
cheery optimism soon came to the fore, and once again he 
set his brains to work. Through Danby he wrote to Louis, 
demanding a fresh pension in return for his good offices. 
Yet another secret bargain was sealed. Charles withdrew 
his troops frcm Holland on the understanding that Louis 
would make peace with that country. But no sooner had 


314 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


the English army left the Dutch shores than Louis culled 
a leaf from his faithless cousin’s book by taking back his 
peace-offers. Whereat the irrepressible Charles was much 
amused, and retired into the background to allow the 
foreign powers to fight out their quarrel alone. He was 
not at all perturbed by the turn affairs had taken, but rather 
pleased, as he was left with a large force at his disposal, 
never having declared war at all. 

And so at length the Peace was signed, without English 
intervention. Mostly it was to Louis’ advantage, but on 
one point it thwarted him: Holland remained inviolate. 
William had triumphed, if not wholly, at least partially. 

“So the little Orange wins!” said Charles. “That boy!” 

“I told you he was a youth of parts, Sir,” answered 
Roxhythe placidly. 

It was at this time that Christopher found a new master. 
My Lord Shaftesbury came to him, offering him a post 
as secretary to himself. He was but lately released from 
the Tower, and was burning with indignation and a fierce 
hatred for the King. 

Christopher entered his service willingly, almost joy¬ 
fully. Ashley had been his father’s friend; Ashley at 
least was honest. He settled down to work for him with a 
quieter mind, feeling that in this patriot he would find 
a friend as well as a master. His old resentment against 
Ashley was nearly dead, for all that Ashley had said 
against Roxhythe was true. Now they never spoke of my 
lord, for on the one occasion when Ashley had mentioned 
his name slightingly Christopher was up in arms at once. 
Not wishing again to alienate the young man from himself, 
Ashley thereafter eschewed the subject. 

For a time all went smoothly. Christopher had much 
work to do, but in constant occupation he found mental 
relief, and he never grumbled at the ever-increasing load 
thrust on to his weary shoulders. Then, like a thunder¬ 
bolt on the land, came the Titus Oates plot, and England 
was once more plunged into a ferment. The tale of the 
coming insurrection of the Catholics was swallowed avidly, 
although the King treated the whole plot with contumely, 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


315 


and its exposers with stern disapproval. At the best, the 
evidence brought forward by Oates and his confederates 
was absurd, and provedly inaccurate. When the interest 
and incredulity in the plot showed signs of waning, it 
was fanned to fresh flame by new depositions, made by 
Oates, more gruesome and improbable than ever. 

To Christopher’s surprise, Shaftesbury credited the tale, 
and went into it thoroughly. Once Christopher expostu¬ 
lated with him, asking if it could be possible that Ashley 
believed Oates’ lies. Ashley shot him a side-long glance 
and answered that it was indeed possible. Then he broke 
into an impassioned harangue against the Duke of York, 
who, he was convinced, was at the head of the plot. Chris¬ 
topher, knowing that his constant ill-health made 
Shaftesbury nervous and uncontrolled, thought little of 
this outburst. He was sorry that his master should be 
so led astray, but he trusted that in time he would return 
to his senses. But soon it was forcibly brought home to 
him that Shaftesbury was behind all the atrocities wreaked 
on the Catholics, and that it was Shaftesbury who encour¬ 
aged the mob’s lust for blood. His last doubts were 
dispelled when he was set to work on a bill of 
Shaftesbury’s own making, excluding all Catholics from a 
seat in either House. Dimly he felt that this was but a 
stepping-stone to the exclusion of the Duke of York from 
the throne, and although he himself dreaded a Papist 
King he could not but feel aghast at Shaftesbury’s action in 
using such a means to procure the exclusion. He began, 
slowly, to realize that Shaftesbury believed in the truth of 
the plot no more than he did himself, but was merely 
feigning belief the better to attain his own ends. Day after 
day Catholic priests were infamously tried, and executed; 
every gaol was full of so-called suspects. And the King 
moved neither one way nor the other. 

Shaftesbury’s bill passed both Houses, but in its chief 
object it failed, as it exempted the Duke of York. Interest 
in the plot died down again, and again Shaftesbury aroused 
it, this time by bringing forward a fresh accomplice of 
Oates, who embellished the original tale with new details. 


316 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

and even accused the Queen of being privy to the whole 
affair. 

Charles was disdainful, but the Commons seized on the 
evidence eagerly. Every Catholic in the realm was 
ordered to be arrested, and Father Coleman, agent to 
the Duke of York, was executed. 

Once more Christopher handed in his resignation. He 
gave my Lord Shaftesbury very definite reasons. He 
realised that my lord was using the plot as a furtherance 
for his own ends. He could not and would not remain in 
the service of one who allowed, nay, encouraged the 
murder of innocent men. He left Shaftesbury in heat. 

There followed a series of executions that drove the 
blood cold in Christopher’s veins. 

In vain did the Jesuit Fathers plead innocence and total 
ignorance of the plot. Their protestations were over-ruled, 
jibed at. 

One Hill, employed at Somerset House, was tried, and 
in spite of all evidence in his favour, condemned to death. 
Christopher had much to do with this man when he had 
been in Roxhythe’s service. He had transacted various 
small businesses for Christopher, and when he had been ill 
one winter, Christopher had helped him pecuniarily. When 
the news of his sentence reached Christopher he went at 
once to Bevan House. 

Roxhythe chanced to be in, and Christopher was shown 
into the library. 

My lord rose and held out his hands. 

“Dear Chris!” 

Christopher clasped them tightly. 

“My lord, I have come on very urgent business!” 

“So?” Roxhythe pressed him into a chair. “What is 
it?” 

“Sir, do you remember Hill?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe. “You’ll take some wine, Chris?” 

No, thank you, sir. Please listen to me! I mean the 
Hill who was yesterday condemned to death.” 

“Oh? Was there a Hill tried yesterday?” 

“You must know, sir!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


317 


“My dear boy, I do not interest myself in every little 
bourgeois who is indiscreet.” 

“Yet I beg you will interest yourself in this! Perhaps 
you remember that silver filigree box that we procured with 
some difficulty?” 

“Yes, I remember that. It was a remarkably fine box. 
I desired it for His Majesty.” 

“I thought you would remember. It was I who found 
it through the agency of this Hill. Harcourt told me of 
him, and he got me the box from the wretched Prance 
who has been questioned lately. Sir, it is this same Hill 
who is to die. I would swear to his innocence! He was 
a poor meek creature, not one who would murder a 
magistrate! This miserable Prance has accused him of 
that. Will you not intervene on his behalf?” 

“My dear Chris!” expostulated Roxhythe. “Do you 
expect me to meddle in these low matters?” 

“It is in the cause of justice, sir! of right! If you 
would speak to His Majesty you could save him.” 

“Maybe. But I certainly shall not worry the King.” 

“My lord, my lord! Is it possible that you can see all 
these innocent men foully done to death and not raise one 
finger to help?” 

“Chris, Chris, you are mad! Why this sudden interest in 
Hill?” 

“It is not so much the individual as the cause! Enough 
innocent men have been murdered already! Why does 
the King allow it?” 

“The King is not omnipotent, Chris. The public will 
not be content unless some blood is shed. If he interferes 
they will turn on him. His position is precarious.” 

“So he allows these poor creatures to die without 
question!” 

“What matter a few bourgeois?” 

“My lord, don’t speak so! It—it is dreadful! That 
the King should act thus!” 

“My dear boy, the King dare not interfere. You must 
not think that he does not look on all this bloodshed with 
horror. But he can do naught.’ 


313 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

“Then can you not exert your influence? It is so 
dastardly!” 

“No doubt I could, but I certainly shall not. It is unwise 
to tamper with the people’s will at this point. 

Christopher sprang up. 

“You believe in these men’s innocence?” 

“I have hardly noticed them. I daresay.” 

“Then you are acting as I never thought it possible for 
you to act. Timorously! Cruelly!” 

“Did you come here to quarrel with me?” asked 
Roxhythe. “Sit down, and talk of something else.” 

“I came to implore you to help in the cause of right! 
I see I might as well talk to a stone!” 

“My good child, you excite yourself over nothing.” 

“Was it nothing that Father Coleman was murdered? 
That good man!” 

“It was necessary. The King deplored it, but the people 
would have it.” 

“I suppose you advocated it?” said Christopher bitterly. 

“Certainly. I thought you knew that nothing counts 
with me save His Majesty’s safety and peace?” 

“I—I cannot answer you, sir. Oh—oh, heaven, how 

I wish that I had never set eyes on you!” 

Roxhythe stretched out his hand. 

“Chris, dear boy, you are demented. Calm yourself.” 

Christopher ignored his hand. 

“Then ’tis you have driven me so! You did your best 
to break my heart—and now you reveal yourself to me— 
callous, ruthless! It—hurts damnably, my lord.” 

Roxhythe turned away. He said nothing. 

“I—I can’t rest! I—oh, there’s no truth anywhere! no 
honour! I thought Russell and Worth were irreproach¬ 
able; I thought Shaftesbury above suspicion! I was wrong, 
wrong, wrong! I’ve done with Englishmen! Each works 
for his own ends and cares not what means he employs 
to obtain them. Even you, my lord!” 

“I suppose I should be grateful for the ‘even,’ ” said 
Roxhythe wearily. 

Christopher went quickly to his side. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


319 


“Ah, no, sir! I—didn’t mean it! I am distraught—I— 
never meant to say those things—to you. Forgive me!” 
Roxhythe laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Chris, you are distraught because you are rudderless. 
Come back to me!” 

“No—no! I cannot! Less than ever now. I—I think 
I shall go out of my mind soon!” 

“Chris, you were happy with me. Come back!” 

“Ah, so happy! It could never be the same again. 
I must go—right away, where I shall not see you.” 

“Even though I beg you to stay?” 

“Yes—even then, my lord. Don’t try to persuade me! 
It is hard enough as it is.” 

“So you’ll go away? Where?” 

“Holland, sir. To join my brother, I think.” 

“Orange,” said Roxhythe quietly. “That will be the 
end, Chris.” 

“Yes, sir—the—end.” 

“And all in search of—what?” 

“In search of honesty and truth. I will not sacrifice my 
honour for love of man.” 

“So instead you’ll sacrifice your happiness for that vague 
thing called patriotism?” 

“I’ll find happiness in my patriotism!” 

“You are like to be disappointed,” said Roxhythe. 



CHAPTER VI 


The Decision 

Christopher wrote to Roderick, advising him of his 
coming to the Hague, and quickly made all his arrange¬ 
ments. Now that he had made his decision he was almost 
glad to be going. He longed to leave England behind him, 
and with it, all his uncertainties. Two days before his 
departure he visited Lady Frances. 

She received him in her drawing-room. She thought she 
had never seen him look so old. 

“Well, dear Chris?” 

He sat down beside her, trying to smile. 

“I have come to—say farewell, Lady Fanny.” 

She sat very still. 

“Ah . . . Holland.” 

“Yes, Holland. You understand that I cannot remain 
in London?” 

“I suppose so,” she sighed. “Poor Chris!” 

“Don’t—pity me! I can’t bear it. There’s no peace for 
me in England, and no work. Always I think of Roxhythe, 
longing only to see him—to hear his voice—feel his hand 
in mine—.” He stopped, biting his lip. “I am sorry. I 
have no right to weary you with such—foolishness.” 

She took both his hands. 

“Chris, are we not friends? How could I be wearied? 
Won’t you—tell me everything?” 

“You are so kind,” said Christopher. “You’ve always 
been so kind—I—oh, to be able to talk to someone!” 

“I know. You won’t go back to Roxhythe?” 

“I cannot. You know what happened. You have heard 
all the tales concerning my lord. I should be acting falsely 
to all that I hold most sacred if I gave way to my long¬ 
ing to be with him.” 

Again she sighed. 


320 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


321 


“And he does not—care as I care. It is not to be 
expected. Lady Fanny—I am not—complaining, but—I 
loved him so greatly! I trusted him so! And he tricked 
me. It’s—all over. I’ve to forget it all. I’ve to forget 
Roxhythe, and all that he meant to me. I must go right 
away, where I shall not be so constantly reminded of him.” 

She stroked his hand gently. 

“So you are for Holland? Perhaps it is best after all. 
But I shall miss you sadly, Chris.” 

“Please—don’t speak of it! I’ve so loved your friend¬ 
ship! But I must go.” 

“I know you must, Chris. And I know how hard it is.” 

“Hard!” he whispered. “It is—tearing my heart out 
of my body. I—” he smiled crookedly. “I leave it—with 
him. I suppose I shall be at peace again—one day. But 
I shall always remember these wonderful years—when I 
was—so happy. I should—be grateful for them—for the 
memory of them. Sometime I shall look back on it all 
calmly—but just now—I daren’t let myself think!” 

“Dear boy, I am sorry from the depths of my heart! 
But you are right; this great, great ache will fade—you’ll 
only remember the happiness and be glad that you were 
happy. And you’ll be happy again. You have your 
brother.” 

“Yes. He—doesn’t count, you know. I—never cared 
for him greatly, and since I have been with—Roxhythe—he 
has had all my love. He has it still. There will never be 
another in his place. I’m a weak fool—but—oh, Lady 
Frances, I want him so much!” 

She tugged at his bowed shoulders. 

“Don’t, Chris! Ah, don’t! He’s not worth it! Oh, 
why, why did he catch you in his net?” 

“God knows. I don’t really regret it. He has been 
responsible for so much that was wonderful in my life. 
And now—I hate all other masters. I compare them, you 
see—and they don’t bear comparison. Roxhythe was—I 
hardly know—incomparable.” 

“He is just Roxhythe,” said Fanny sadly. 

Christopher caught his breath in a half-sob, half laugh. 



322 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“ ‘I am Roxhythe’ ... I can hear him say it—in 
that soft voice! So haughtily! Yes, he is just Roxhythe.” 
He stood up, biting his lip. “I leave the day after 
to-morrow, Lady Frances. You’ll not—quite forget me?” 

“Forget my Chris? Is it likely? One day you will come 
hack. I am going to wait till then. You won’t forget me, 
1 hope?” 

He kissed her hands. 

“It were impossible. I shall never forget—all your 
kindness. You’ll let me write to you?” 

“You must write,” she said. “I should be so sad if 
you did not.” 

“I can’t thank you enough—Good-bye, Lady Fanny!” 

My lady put her hands on his shoulders and lifted her 
face. 

“You may kiss me, Chris. My poor, poor, Chris!” 


CHAPTER VII 
The Revenge 

It was very cold. Outside a drizzling rain fell on the 
bleak gardens. The gaunt tree branches were wet and 
shining. Charles sat by the fire in his room, nursing a 
spaniel. His dark eyes were brooding, his fingers restless. 

“You heard what Danby had to say, David?” 

Roxhythe was gazing out into the rain. 

“Ay. Montague has been elected member for Northamp¬ 
tonshire.” 

“Danby tells me they quarrelled some time ago. God’s 
life, why must he quarrel with my French Ambassador 
of all people?” 

“Does Danby think he means harm?” 

“Ay. He spoke of incriminating documents. You know 
what that means, Roxhythe.” 

“Letters to Louis. I always said it was unwise.” 

The King was peevish. 

“If you had not fallen out of favour with Louis those 
letters need never have gone through Montague. Now we 
shall have Danby impeached.” 

“I think I see the hand of Shaftesbury. Montague is 
a tool.” 

“Shaftesbury or others. He hates Danby most.” 

“And Danby, being your tool, will turn on you.” 

“Another tax on my ingenuity! Danby intends to strike 
at Montague before Montague has time to strike at him- ’ 

“Better still to dispose of Montague.” 

“No, David! I have had enough blood.” 

Roxhythe shrugged. 

“How does Danby think to strike at Montague? ’ 

“Some talk of Montague’s conferring with the Papists 
without my knowledge. Danby plans to seize his papers. 

“Why, that is very well! He is to act in your name? 

323 


324 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“He says so. He is to inform the House of it to-morrow. 

There was a long silence. Presently the King turned 

his head. „ 

“By the way, Davy, the Crewes are in town again. 

“Crewes?” 

The King smiled faintly. 

“Forgotten already? The man you fell afoul of two 
years ago.” 

“That man! Yes, I remember. I told him to absent 
himself for a year.” 

“Well, he has been gone for two. He dared to appear 
at Whitehall.” 

“Oh? What did you say?” 

“Remembering your request I said nothing. But it was 
gross presumption on his part.” 

“What of the wife?” 

“She was there. I believe she has become most devoted. ’ 

“I thought she would.” Roxhythe came to the fire¬ 
place. “King Louis hath his revenge on me, Sir.” 

Charles raised his heavy brows. 

“Louis? Why?” 

“He conceived that I had promised to act in his interests. 
He was furious with me when you married the Lady Mary 
to the Prince.” 

“A pity. What is his revenge?” 

“I take it he has warned the Country Party against me.” 
Roxhythe smiled rather wearily. “No longer can I intrigue 
privately.” 

“It’s a plaguey nuisance. Faith, Louis is no gentleman 
to turn informer in that fashion!” 

“ ’Tis unkind of him, I admit. I am the less useful to 
you, Sir, in consequence.” 

Charles stretched out his hand quickly. 

“Don’t speak like that, Davy! Always you are my 
dearest friend!” 

Roxhythe went on his knee. 

"Always,” he said, and kissed the King’s hand. “Always.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


325 


Danby’s attack on Montague failed, for Montague care¬ 
fully secreted the two most important documents in his 
possession. One of them was the letter written by Charles’ 
order before the Peace of Nimeguen. Backed by the 
Treasurer’s bitterest enemies he brought charges against 
Danby. Impeachment followed. There was fresh uproar 
in the House. 

Danby narrowly escaped imprisonment, but the majority 
was small. Public feeling was against him. 

Then Charles prorogued his unruly Parliament, and in 
January, scarcely a month after, dissolved it. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The Haven- 

After ten years Christopher returned to Holland. Much 
of it he had forgotten, much brought back old memories, 
poignant in their nearness to him. He had travelled from 
Harwich to Rotterdam, spending only a night in that town. 
He visited 19, Prinsen Straat, hoping to see de Staal again. 
It had been a shock to find the house in other hands and 
to hear that de Staal had gone to his rest four years ago. 
He had hardly realized how much he wanted to see the old 
man. He went away with lagging steps, guided along that 
very road which they had walked that evening, now so 
long ago. He visited the inn at which he had stayed, and 
looked up at the window of his room. It was just the same. 
Nothing seemed to have changed: not even the fat landlord. 

Christopher wandered into the coffee-room. Here he had 
seen the spy who had dogged their steps. He remembered, 
smiling a little, how excited he had been, and how placid 
he had found Roxhythe. My lord had been dozing in his 
chair; he had refused to be roused. 

He tore himself away from the inn, knowing that it was 
foolishness to have come. It was with relief that he left 
Rotterdam behind. 

The Hague seemed yet more packed with memories. The 
Poisson d’Or had changed no more than the inn at Rotter¬ 
dam. Christopher looked up at the window, almost expect¬ 
ing to see Roxhythe standing there with the inevitable 
Milward at his elbow. 

It was with an effort that he turned away. He had always 
remembered the Hague as a cheerful, happy town. Now 
it seemed dark, forlorn, a place of ghosts. 

Roderick had grown kinder, and less harsh. He made 
no reference to Roxhythe. He was unfeignedly glad to 
see Christopher again; he wanted to present him to the 

326 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


327 


Prince, but Christopher refused. Later he would go to the 
Huis ten Bosch, but for the present he wanted to be quiet. 

He bought a horse shortly after his arrival and one day 
rode out to Scheveningen. The peaceful fishing-village 
took his fancy. Nearly every day he rode there, some¬ 
times talking to the fishermen, mostly sitting by the sea 
alone, undisturbed by any uncouth sound, watching the 
silver-backed gulls swirling and diving against the intense 
blue sky. 

Slowly the ache within him died, already it was less 
acute. Sitting on the shore, listening to the cry of the gulls 
and the continuous break of the waves on the sand, all that 
had passed during the last year seemed to fade away to a 
memory. It was no longer the never-ceasing pain; it was 
still there; it was still a great sadness, but it had softened 
and was not ever-present. 

Bit by bit he began to take an interest in what went on 
around him. He watched the fishermen draw in their hauls, 
interested in the slippery, gleaming fish that floundered in 
the bottom of the net. Once he went out in a boat, helping 
the fishermen. He grew stronger, more virile, less morbid. 

Roderick seldom accompanied him to Scheveningen. 
Christopher did not wish .it. His brother’s presence dis¬ 
turbed him, disturbed the great peace of the village. He 
would spend all the day there, rejoicing in the vast lone¬ 
liness, feeling the rough spray on his face, and the wind 
blowing strongly about him. At sundown he would ride 
back to the Hague, tired and hungry. Sometimes he dined 
with Roderick, sometimes by himself. 

After a while he went less often to Scheveningen. Desire 
for company was coming to life again. Roderick saw it, 
and introduced him to Mynheer Heenvliet and various other 
members of the Prince’s household. Other friends Chris¬ 
topher made for himself, all Dutchmen. One of these, 
Jan Van den Busch, showed him some of the countryside. 
Christopher visited Rijswijk and Loosduinen. It gave him 
a taste for sight-seeing, and he went away for a time, 
travelling north. When he returned, Roderick was sur¬ 
prised at the change in him. His eyes were brighter, his 


328 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


bearing more brisk, his spirits lighter. His laugh still 
lacked its old spontaneity, his smile was not so joyous, but 
it came more often and less forcedly. 

Roderick realized that Christopher had aged more in 
one year than in all the others of his life. He had 
no youthful illusions, no youthful impetuosity. He was 
calmer, more shrewd. He had a knowledge of men and of 
the world. Roderick realized that in some ways Chris¬ 
topher was older than he. 

Once again he broached the question of an introduction 
to the Prince. This time Christopher consented. 

So one day the brothers rode out of the Hague through 
the wood that led to the Huis ten Bosch. Christopher was 
rather silent for the most part but when they reached the 
gardens of the palace he expressed his admiration. 

“His Highness will be pleased to hear that you like his 
flowers,” said Roderick. “He takes great pride in them.” 

“What does the Princess here?” asked Christopher sud¬ 
denly. “I had not thought that the solitude was congenial 
to her.” 

“At first Her Highness conceived herself very homesick. 
She is different now.” 

“Poor Lady Mary! She was such a gay princess! She 
took such delight in the life at Whitehall.” 

Roderick spoke stiffly. 

“There is no need to pity her. She is the Prince his 
wife.” 

“Poor lady!” said Christopher again. “I do pity her.” 

“Her Highness should be happy enough,” replied his 
brother. “She has changed.” 

The Prince was not in the house. One of the lackeys 
had seen him walking in the gardens not long since. Thev 
found him at length on a terrace, basking in the sunlight. 

Roderick swept him a low bow. 

“Highness, I have brought my brother. May I present 
him?” It was a triumphant moment for him. At last 
Christopher had been brought face to face with this Prince 
whom he had affected to despise. At last he could show 
Christopher how wonderful was his master. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


329 


William turned. Christopher thought he had never met 
such a piercing scrutiny. Then the Prince smiled and rose. 

‘I have long desired to make your acquaintance, 
Mr. Dart. Rodrigue has often spoken to me of you.” He 
extended his hand. 

Christopher went on one knee to kiss it. 

“Your Highness is very kind,” he said. 

“Christopher greatly admires the gardens, Sir,” said 
Roderick. 

William looked pleased. 

“They are beautiful!” said Christopher warmly. “I do 
indeed admire them, Sir.” 

“I love them,” answered the Prince. “I could not live 
without my flowers.” He waved his hand towards a bed 
of tulips. “Those are my flowers.” 

Christopher smiled. 

“Even we in England know which are your favourites, 
Sir!” 

“So? They are my favourites because they are part of 
Holland. You do not grow such flowers in England.” 

“No,” said Christopher. “But we have our roses.” 

“Yes, you have your roses. Rodrigue, he must be shown 
the west side!” 

So the Prince of Orange showed Mr. Dart the west side 
of his gardens. 

The visit to the Huis ten Bosch was the first of many. 
Christopher made more friends in the Prince’s household, 
and the Princess desired his acquaintance. 

He hardly recognized the Lady Mary in the quiet, soberly 
dressed woman to whom he was presented. The Mary he 
knew had sparkling eyes and a roguish smile. The eyes 
were calm now, almost sad; the smile was full of dignity. 
He thought that she seemed unhappy, and later he found 
that there was a coldness between the Prince and his wife. 

Mary was anxious to hear all the London news. More 
than once Christopher saw her eyes fill, but the tears did 
not well over. He could not tell her much, but she was 
grateful for very little. She asked after various people, 
lingering over their names as over a pleasant memory. 


330 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Christopher pitied her from the bottom of his heart. 

Desire for work was growing apace. The indolent life 
he was leading had become irksome. Christopher realized 
that he must find some occupation. 

The more he saw of William, the more convinced he was 
that he had found one who was honest and a patriot. He 
watched the Stadtholder’s adroit management of affairs 
with growing admiration. 

Roderick was surprised that his brother did not fall at 
the Prince’s feet, worshipping. He was still more sur¬ 
prised that Christopher should feel no desire to become 
one of the Prince’s household. He could not understand 
that all Christopher’s love remained with Roxhythe. 

"You do not desire to be near the Prince his person?” 

“I would rather join his army,” answered Christopher. 

‘’Join the army! You had better enter his household.” 

“I do not wish to serve any man—personally.” 

“Odds life! Not even His Highness?” 

“No one.” 

Roderick stared. 

“You are no soldier, Chris!” 

“I can learn.” 

“You were better advised to turn your hand to politics.” 

“Never! I want not to hear the word again!” 

But that is ridiculous! Because you found Shaftesbury 
acting questionably is no reason to think that-” 

“I will not hear of politics. They mean intrigue and 
covert dealing; bribing and tricking. I’ll none of it.” 

Roderick shook his head in amazement. But he broached 
the subject to his master. 

Thus it came about that Christopher had audience with 
the Prince one sunny morning at the Huis ten Bosch. 

William sat at his desk, chin in hand. He regarded 
Christopher thoughtfully for some moments. 

“Rodrigue has been speaking to me of you, Mr. Dart. 
You desire to serve under my standard?” He spoke in 
Dutch. 

“If your Highness permits, I ask nothing better.” 

Christopher saw the hazel eyes twinkle suddenly. 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


331 

"Yet if I offer you a post about my person you will 
refuse it?” 

There was something disconcerting about the Prince. 
Christopher stammered a little. 

“I hope—Your Highness—will not—offer that.” 

“Sit down,” said William. “Why do you hope that?” 

“Sir, I desire to serve no man personally. I want to 
serve as a soldier.” 

William smiled. 

“You want to serve an ideal, hein?” 

“Perhaps that is true, Sir. I do not want to serve— 
a man.” 

“Are you afraid that I should betray your trust?” 

The swiftness of the attack got behind Christopher’s 

guard. 

“I—don’t understand, Sir.” 

“I think you do. Am I the man to betray a trust?” 

“No, Sir. Why do you ask?” 

“Because I will not be served by any man who does 
not place in me his whole confidence.” 

Christopher hesitated. 

“I believe that you at least are honest, Sir,” he said at 
last. 

“But you will not accept a post about my person.” 

Christopher grew hot under the steady scrutiny. 

“No, Sir.” 

“Why not?” 

For a moment Christopher did not answer. 

“Highness, if you must know, it is this:—For nine years 
I have served my Lord Roxhythe. He has all my love, all 
my devotion. I cannot serve another man in the same way. 
I have tried and failed. Twice failed.” 

“Mr. Dart, you say that Roxhyt’e has your love and 
your devotion. What then have you to offer me?” 

“Faithful service, Sir, and loyalty.” 

“So!” William tapped his fingers lightly on a sheet of 
parchment. His face grew harsh. “We will have plain 
speaking, if you please, Mr. Dart. I have some knowledge 
of milor’ RoxhytVs life, and of his dealings. How am I 


332 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

to know that you are not imbued with his morals—or lack 
of morals?” 

Christopher straightened. 

“Highness, may we leave Roxhythe out of the discussion? 
I trust my morals are above reproach.” 

“I trust so, Mr. Dart. Yet in ’77 there was some ques¬ 
tion of that.” 

“Will your* Highness explain?” 

“It is necessary? In ’77 you bore letters to Cherrywood; 
letters that we believe to have been addressed to the French 
King from King Charles. You will admit that gives food 
for thought, Mr. Dart.” 

Christopher met his eyes bravely. 

“I give Your Highness my word that if that was so I 
knew nothing of it when I did take the letters. I thought 
them innocent dispatches to His Grace of Monmouth.” 

“So your brother assures me. He tells me you were 
tricked. It is because you fear that I might trick you 
that you will not enter my—personal—service?” 

“N-no, Sir. I think not. It is because I could not 
serve you with whole-hearted affection. It is true that I 
have grown suspicious of late, but I believe that I do trust 
Your Highness.” 

“Thank you. That is your only reason?” 

Again Christopher hesitated. 

“No, Sir, there is another. However honest you be 
there must always be intrigue. I desire to know nothing 
of intrigue. I want to—be outside all the inner workings 
of politics. I want to—forget everything.” 

William coughed a little. 

“Then I think you would be better advised to seek 
employment with someone who lives not a public life.” 

“I have thought of that, Sir, but it does not appeal to 
me.” 

“In truth, Mr. Dart, you do not know what you want.” 

“Indeed, Sir, I do! I want to fight France—our common 
enemy.” 

“I do not fight France. There is peace.” 

Christopher looked at him strangely. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 333 

“Your Highness will not always be content with this 
peace.” 

William’s brows rose perceptibly. 

“Oh! So you will join the army—and wait? Dull 
work, Mr. Dart.” 

“I have yet to learn a soldier’s duties, Sir.” 

The Prince tapped the parchment again. 

“Well . . . Perhaps I can find employment for you. 
We shall see.” 

He took up a quill. For some moments he wrote swiftly. 
Then he dusted the parchment and folded it. 

“You are quite sure that you wish to serve the Orange? 
Remember that you are an Englishman; remember that 
once you have entered the army you cannot leave it at 
will.” 

“I have considered all that, Sir. It is no hasty decision 
that I have made. I have thought long, and—pardon me 
—I have observed Your Highness closely. I believe that 
at last I have found a master who is above bribes; who 
does not work for himself but for his country.” 

William bowed. 

“I admire plain speaking, sir. In my turn I believe 
that you too are honest. I doubted it at one time, but when 
I was told that you had quitted Lord Roxhyt’e I concluded 
that I was wrong.” 

“Thank you, Sir. I may enter your service?” 

William handed him the parchment. 

“You will convey that to Bentinck. Rodrigue will direct 
you. Bentinck will give you a commission, and it will 
remain for you to prove yourself.” 

Christopher went down on one knee. 

“I will serve Your Highness faithfully,” he said. “I 
have to thank you for your kindness.” 

William held out his hand. 

“That is very well,” he said. 

Christopher went quietly out of the room. Roderick 
was awaiting him, all eagernese. 

“Well, Chris?” 

“I am to go to General Bentinck.” 


334 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Roderick was disappointed. 

“I had thought—that when you had spoken with His 
Highness—you would have desired to be always at his 
side.” 

Christopher smiled faintly. 

“I am no longer twenty-one, Dick. The age of illusions 
is past. 

“Have you no enthusiasms?” 

Christopher sighed. 

“I hardly know. Perhaps. But not for man.” 

“I don’t understand you, Chris. I had thought that the 
Prince would have captured your devotion.” 

“You have yet to realize, Dick, that my devotion lies 
elsewhere.” 

“Still?” Roderick was incredulous. 

“Always.” 

“But after all that has happened! after his treatment of 
you-” 

“If you think that any harm done to me could kill my 
love for Roxhythe, you do not understand love.” 

“You are infatuated! Pray heaven it will pass!” 

“For my peace of mind I hope it will. You’ll dine 
with me to-night? I shall leave the Hague early to¬ 
morrow.” 

“As soon as that? Yes, I’ll dine with you. I wish you 
were to be of the Household, though. I wanted you near 
me after all these years.” 

Christopher spoke rather cynically. 

“No, Roderick. You had been jealous of me an I had 
joined the Prince his Household.” 

“Really, Christopher!” Roderick was inclined to be 
offended. Then he smiled. “Perhaps you are right. But 
I shall miss you.” 

“It will pass,” replied Christopher easily. 

Roderick went back to his master. 

“Well, Rodrigue? You have seen your brother?” 

“Yes, Sir. 1 cannot understand his attitude.” 

“No?” 

“He is so cold! so unlike his old self.” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


335 


“My dear Rodrigue, your brother has suffered. I under¬ 
stand him.” 

“But then, Highness, you understand all men,” said 
Roderick softly. 























Book V 


THE OTHER PART 






















CHAPTER I 


The Triple Game 

“Trouble, trouble, naught but trouble!” Charles flung 
out his hands hopelessly. “Shaftesbury, Russell, Caven¬ 
dish! What is to be done?” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“Do you despair, Sir?” 

“Do I ever despair? But this combination means end¬ 
less toil, endless dissension. Shaftesbury is mine enemy.” 

“To counteract Shaftesbury you have Sunderland.” 

“Whom I would not trust.” 

“Nevertheless he may prove useful. And there is 
Halifax.” 

“He blows hot and cold.” 

“But mostly cold.” 

“What do you mean, David?” 

“I wonder that you have not observed Halifax more 
closely, Sir. When the greater party blows hot, he blows 
cold. You’ll find him opposed to Shaftesbury.” 

“It may be so. You think he’ll support me?” 

“If you are the losing side, Sir, yes. If you are the 
stronger he will not matter.” 

“True. But that will not help us now. I see trouble 
stirring for James. The people wax unruly.” 

“His Grace acts very imprudently. You would be wise 
to remove him, Sir. While he remains in England the 
Protestant cause will keep fresh in England’s mind.” 

“Remove him . . . ay, but where?” 

“Does it signify? Send him where he cannot stir up 
agitation by his foolish behaviour.” 

Charles sat up. 

“I believe you are right, David. I’ll send him to 
Brussels.” 

“It will suffice. At least he will be out of harm’s way.” 

339 


340 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Yes. But I do not think he will thank me.” 

“Perhaps not.” 

“He’ll be greatly incensed. It may be that he will 
suspect your hand in the matter.” 

“Probably. It does not worry me.” 

Charles stroked one of his dogs reflectively. 

“Do you think that by doing this I shall avert the storm 
against his succession? I do not.” 

“No, Sir. You will modify it.” 

“It will still mean a fight. Shaftesbury is determined to 
exclude him.” 

“Sire, most men are determined. Nearly all your new 
ministers are at one on the question. But I think that 
there will be dissension.” 

“Why?” 

“They will not all want the same successor.” 

“You think some will stand for Monmouth?” 

“I do expect it, Sir. Prince William is not every man’s 
choice.” 

“No. And Monmouth is popular. He would be the 
people’s choice, but 1 cannot believe that the Cabinet 
would consent to it.” 

“We shall see. In the meantime, Sir, I propose to act.” 

Charles leaned back in his chair. 

“I were not King without you, Davy. You’ll help Hie 
to overthrow the coming cry for exclusion?” 

“I will.” 

The King looked at him curiously for a moment 

“Roxhythe, what are your own sentiments?” 

“I’ve none. I care not what happens after you are gone. 
England may have James, or Mary, or Monmouth. It is 
all one to me. All that matters is your pleasure.” 

“I would I had more of your mind about me! What do 
you think of doing?” 

Roxhythe sat down on the nearest chair. 

“I shall throw myself into the cause against His Grace 
of York. Secretly.” 

The King’s brow contracted in bewilderment. 

“Go on.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


341 


“His Grace of York’s dislike for me is well known. 
That adds colour to my attitude. I approach Shaftesbury 
when the time comes, with great caution. I am a thought 
fearful of discovery, you understand. I think that it were 
best for me to act secretly for fear of incurring Your 
Majesty’s displeasure.” 

“I do not think that they will trust you.” 

“They will undoubtedly have misgivings. But my 
support in the matter would be invaluable. They would 
count on my exerting my influence to sway you ’gainst the 
Duke.” 

“Ay, but what then?” 

“When I have convinced the worthy Shaftesbury of 
my whole-hearted sincerity I shall enter deep into the 
inner workings of the affair.” 

“Which you will impart to me?” 

“Which I shall impart to you. I think I may be 
instrumental in bringing about the fall of our friend 
Ashley.” 

“You are clever enough for anything,” admitted Charles. 
“But this is a big risk.” 

“No. They can but disbelieve in me, and I do not think 
they will do that. They will see that if the Duke succeeds 
you I must fall. It is the popular belief that I work 
primarily for my own ends.” 

Charles nodded. 

“If all this should come to James his ears you are 
ruined—when I die, my David.” 

“That matters not at all, Sir.” 

“I might confide in James ...” 

“I beg you will not, Sir! He is so incautious. And 
he mistrusts me. He would not believe that I was working 
in his interests.” 

“I do not suppose he would. Especially if he guesses 
by whose advice he is sent to Brussels.” 

“He’ll guess that, of course. He suspects my hand in 
everything. His mistrust will but further my machina- 

- * 55 

uons. 

“Very well, Roxhythe, I consent.” 


342 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


The favourite laughed. 

“Did you mean to withhold your consent, Sir?” 

“I’ve no wish to ruin you, David.” 

“Why, I am ruined already. What happens after your 
death is no matter at all.” 

“Well, I do not think I shall die yet,” said Charles 
placidly. 

* ******** 

After welcoming the new Parliament with wild enthusi¬ 
asm, England settled down to enjoy a panic concerning 
Papists and Papist heirs. This panic my Lord Shaftesbury 
fostered lovingly. He was a brave man, but the rest of 
the Council were not. They hesitated at bringing in an 
Exclusion Bill. But they agitated with the rest. 

For a short space Shaftesbury supported the King’s 
suggested Bill of Securities, but he decided at last that it 
was not strong enough, and laid it aside. He prevailed 
upon the Council to bring in a Bill excluding James from 
the throne and devolving it upon the next Protestant 
heir. The Commons liked the Bill, and passed it. My 
Lord Shaftesbury anticipated trouble in the other House, 
and he instructed the Commons to prepare a Remonstrance. 

Charles deemed it prudent to prorogue his Parliament. 

The trouble fermented. My Lord Shaftesbury held 
meetings and discussions. So did my Lords Halifax, 
Essex, and Sir William Temple, the Secretary of State. 
Into these meetings was introduced the magic name of 
Roxhythe. 

Lord Holies mentioned my lord first. He was dining 
with Shaftesbury. 

“I believe I have set my finger on a weak spot in the 
King’s armour,” he remarked. He peeled a nut, and ate 
it. 

The Earl was all attention. 

“What have you discovered, Holies?” 

Holies ate another nut. 

I have reason to think that his favourite stands against 
him.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


343 


“Roxhythe? Impossible!” 

“On the contrary. If you think for a moment you will 
see that it is more than probable.” 

“You think that Roxhythe realizes that the accession 
of James would be his downfall?” 

“Well, he is no fool.” 

Shaftesbury pushed back his chair, frowning. 

“I would never trust Roxhythe.” 

“Except when he works for himself.” 

“Less than ever then.” 

“I disagree. I discern signs of uneasiness in my lord.” 

“I can’t believe that Roxhythe would ever betray his 
feelings.” 

“They were very slight signs, I admit. I fancy he is 
working for the exclusion.” 

Shaftesbury sat biting his nail, his face in worried lines. 

“If it were so it would help the cause more than any¬ 
thing else.” 

“So I think. I know that he dined with Savile twice 
last week.” 

“With Halifax! That means he favours the accession 
of Mary!” 

“It is more likely that he has not thought of Monmouth. 
Monmouth should be more to his taste.” 

“Holies, I wish that I might be sure of this! If one 
could trust him he would be invaluable. He has so much 
influence.” 

“Why not sound him?” 

“How?” 

“Invite him to dinner.” 

“Quite impossible. I do not visit him.” 

“Then let me. I’ll also invite you.” 

Ashley bit his nail again, irresolute. 

“If he would come-” 

“Oh, he will come! He often dines with me.” 

“I do not think that he would ever work for a party.” 

“It remains to be seen. It is just possible that our 
great Roxhythe is a little apprehensive.” 



344 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Two days later Roxhythe exhibited a letter to his master. 

“I am bidden to Holies to-morrow, Sir.” 

“Really?” Charles took the letter. “How amiable he 
is! They mean to probe you, David.” 

My lord smiled serenely. He accepted the invitation. 

During dinner at Lord Holies’ house he excelled himself. 
He talked on every subject but one, and that one politics; 
witticisms flowed from his tongue, and if they annoyed 
Shaftesbury, they delighted his host. 

When the servants had at last left the room, Lord Holies 
filled up the glasses, and, not without regret, brought the 
conversation round to home affairs. He began cautiously, 
for Ashley had implored him to be very circumspect in 
what he said before Roxhythe. He leaned back in his chair, 
tilting it slightly. 

“We are all idle since our prorogation, Roxhythe—and 
somewhat disgruntled!” He grimaced ruefully. “I 
should not say that to you, I suppose.” 

Roxhythe stared into his glass. 

“Yes, the Bill seems to have failed.” 

“The poor Bill! But we must not weary you with it. 
You understand it is something of an obsession! However, 
I know you are not interested. Shaftesbury, a little 
Burgundy?” 

“Why should I not be interested?” asked Roxhythe. 
“Of course—it really does not affect me . . He 

left a pause. 

Holies shot a look at the Earl. 

Why I rather thought ye were above our discussions! 
But—well, you are not always at one with his Grace of 
York, are you?” 

He achieved a roguish smile. 

Roxhythe touched his lips with his napkin. 

“Not always,” he said. 

Holies thought it as well to change the subject. He was 
an artist, he flattered himself. Presently he would let the 
the conversation glide back to politics. He was annoyed 
when Shaftesbury, always impatient, came abruptly back 
to the all-important topic. 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 345 

“Of course, if we have James we are assured of Papist 
successors.” 

Roxhythe looked up quickly. 

“Oh, ’tis not the successors-” he stopped. “Do you 

think so?” 

Holies replenished his glass. Since Shaftesbury had so 
tactlessly re-introduced the subject it had best be con¬ 
tinued. 

“With both parents Catholic, what would you?” he 
asked. “We ought to have a Protestant heir.” Out of 
the corner of his eye he could see Shaftesbury’s apprehen¬ 
sive gaze, full of warning. 

Roxhythe was gloomy. 

“Yes, but Mary means the Prince of Orange.” 

“True.” Holies returned Shaftesbury’s look steadily. 
“You do not like the thought?” 

Roxhythe sipped his wine, of a sudden languid. 

“In truth it concerns me not.” 

There was no more political talk that evening. 

When Roxhythe had gone, Holies returned to Shaftes¬ 
bury, triumphant. 

“What did I say?” 

“Yes,” agreed the Earl. “But he is not desirous of 
joining us. I think he still ponders.” 

“Evidently. And you see that he does not relish the 
idea of the Orange. We must secure him, my lord.” 

“If we can—if ’tis safe. He does not give much away.” 

“Except that he wants the exclusion.” 

“I wonder ...” Shaftesbury frowned uncertainly. 
“It may have been that he wished us to infer that.” 

Holies was derisive. 

“My dear Ashley! One could see that he was perturbed 
by his manner. Did you not think so?” 

“Yes—and no.” 

“It was palpable! He must be cajoled to our side.” 

“I do not like it!” Shaftesbury spoke curtly. “I do not 
trust Roxhythe. He might ruin us. ’ 

“But will he? Do you not see that he must at all costs 
exclude James? He knows that the Duke hates him.” 



346 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I do not expect him to work against the King.” 

“Rest assured that he would never do so openly. So 
much the better.” 

“If we invite him to be one of us we take too great 
a risk.” 

“I do not agree. If we do not snare him he may go 
over to Temple’s party. He has too much influence in 
the Upper House to be counted lightly. You do not want 
the Orange.” 

“No, damme! But could he influence the House to 
that extent?” 

“I think it more than likely. And if we set Monmouth up 
as the heir Roxhythe could very easily influence the King 
to ruin him.” 

“If he became one of Temple’s party that is what he 
would do, of course. Well . . . But I do not like it!” 

“Leave it to me!” said Holies. 

********* 

My Lord Roxhythe repaired to Whitehall. The King 
went apart with him. 

“We progress,” said my lord tranquilly. “I am advocate 
for Mary, I am advocate for Monmouth.” 

“ ’Sblood, David, does Shaftesbury really think to set 
Monmouth on the throne when I am gone?” 

“So I gather. Temple wishes to bring Prince William to 
England to accustom the mind of England to the idea of 
his succession. But Shaftesbury will have none of it.” 

“And you?” 

“Very secretly I am with Temple—say Halifax. Not 
wholly. They are still in doubt about me. Shortly I shall 
be one of Shaftesbury’s band. Then we shall see.” 

“It must be damned entertaining!” exclaimed the King. 

“It is damned hard work!” retorted Roxhythe. 


CHAPTER II 


The Schemers 

Cautiously did my Lord Holies set about the business 
of snaring Roxhythe. It took some little time to win 
this trump card to his side, but he did it at length, marvel¬ 
ling at his own sagacity and cunning. At last Roxhythe 
allowed himself to be persuaded, and then he entered into 
the cause, as he put it, heart and soul. Shaftesbury still 
had misgivings; in Roxhythe’s presence his conversation 
was always guarded, yet he could not but see the truth 
in what Holies said: Roxhythe must at all costs work for 
the Duke of York’s exclusion. Reluctantly he invited 
Roxhythe to a discussion at his house. 

The only other schemers there that day were Holies and 
one Lord Roberts. Roberts was entirely of Holies’ mind 
concerning Roxhythe. He clasped my lord warmly by the 
hand. 

“I am glad to know that you are one of us, my lord!” 

“I am honoured to be one of you,” smiled Roxhythe. 
“This is a serious matter.” 

“It is indeed, my lord! It is indeed!” 

Shaftesbury drew forward a chair. 

“I need hardly say, Lord Roxhythe, that we trust to your 
discretion.” 

“Certainly,” bowed my lord. 

He listened to the discussion with interest. It appeared 
that the worthy gentlemen did not know how to win my 
Lords Halifax and Essex to their side. It also appeared 
that not many of the Council desired Monmouth for King. 

In the middle of the argument my lord upraised his 
smooth voice. 

“It seems, gentlemen, that the opposing side think his 
Grace would be an unpopular King.” 

“That is true!” cried Roberts. “They do not think 

347 


348 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


that he would ever be received. I believe it is for that 
reason alone that they will not join us. Many of them do 
not really want William.” 

“Then they should be shown how popular is the Duke,” 
said my lord. 

“You mean that we should thrust him to the fore?” 

“Present him to the people . . . H’m!” Shaftesbury 
was dubious. 

“He has been in the background of late,” remarked 
Holies. “It might be well to parade him.” 

“Where is his Grace?” blandly asked my lord. 

“He could not be present to-day,” answered Roberts, 
before Shaftesbury could intercept him. 

“A pity,” said Roxhythe. He shrugged, and brought 
out his comfit-box. 

“Why?” Shaftesbury it was who shot the question. 

“He might have had some suggestion to put forward,” 
replied my lord. 

“Oh, no!” Roberts shook his head. “He will be 
advised by us.” 

“Why, that is better still,” said my lord, very urbane. 

“Lord Roxhythe’s suggestion has merit,” observed 
Holies slowly. “It might be well to bring the Duke before 
the people’s eyes once more. You remember how pop¬ 
ular he was during the war?” 

“The people admired his courage—why not send him 
to Scotland?” Lord Roberts started forward. “If the 
King might be induced to put him at the head of the 
troops!” 

“To quell the rising? I do not know that His Majesty 
would do that.” Roxhythe spoke disparagingly. “He 
desires to keep the Duke at his side.” 

“Could you not prevail with the King?” asked Holies. 

Roxhythe seemed to consider. 

“It is difficult. I do not want to become a suspect.” 

“Surely you could do it in such a way that the King 
should suspect naught?” 

“I might. I do not know.” 

“It should not be so difficult. The King trusts in you.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


349 


“Yes. Well, I will think on it. If I may safely do so 
I will use my influence. But the suggestion should come 
from Shaftesbury.” 

“I agree with that,” said Roberts decidedly. “You could 
well suggest it to His Majesty, Ashley.” 

“I am not sure that I approve of the scheme. Better 
that we should wait for a time.” 

“No, no! If we wait we lose ground,” replied Holies. 
“If Monmouth quells the rising in Scotland the people will 
laud him once more. Then he can be paraded as much 
as you please. My Lords Halifax and Essex will see that 
he would be very easily the people’s choice.” 

Still Shaftesbury hesitated. 

“It is a bold step.” 

“A sure step.” 

“I think Holies is right,” said Roxhythe gently. “Hali¬ 
fax and Essex are uncertain. If they were clearly shown 
which way the people look they would be more likely to 
join us.” 

“That is so, of course. On the other hand they may 
take fright at so bold a move.” 

“If you think that I should keep Monmouth in the back¬ 
ground,” said Roxhythe. 

“No. The step is worth taking,” said Roberts. “Do 
you, Roxhythe, think that Halifax and Essex will take 
fright?” 

“It is hard to say,” fenced his lordship. “I had not 
thought so, I confess, but I may have been wrong.” 

“There!” Roberts turned to Shaftesbury. “You hear? 

“And I still hesitate.” 

Roxhythe smoothed his ruffles. 

“I do advise you to be guided by Shaftesbury. I know 
very little of these matters.” 

“You under-rate yourself, my lord!” cried Roberts. “I 
advocate the scheme.” 

“And I,” said Holies. 

Shaftesbury sighed. 

“Very well, gentlemen. Since you are determined.” 


350 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Roxhythe visited the King in his closet that evening. 
Charles laughed at him. 

“Well, my plotter?” 

“I am deep in intrigue,” said Roxhythe. He sat down. 
“I have attended a meeting of our dear friends Ashley, 
Holies and Roberts.” 

“I would give much to see you in their company, 
chuckled the King. “What have you gleaned?” 

“Several things. One that will grieve you, Sir. 

“Monmouth?” 

“Monmouth.” 

“He is privy to it?” Charles’ voice was anxious. 

“I am afraid so, Sir.” 

For a moment the King did not speak. He fingered his 
curls, his face overcast. 

“I had not thought it of him,” he said at last. “This 
is ill hearing, David.” 

“Not so ill as it might be, Sir. Monmouth would appear 
to be little more than a puppet in Shaftesbury’s hands.” 

Charles pulled down the corners of his mouth. 

“I wish he were not so weak!” 

“Well, Sire, you always knew that he was—easily led.” 

“You said so from the first. What more?” 

“I played with these worthy gentlemen. It was most 
amusing. They debated as to how they were to further 
Monmouth’s cause. I suggested that he should be brought 
to the people’s notice again. They liked my suggestion. 
All but Shaftesbury. He has sense but not sufficient faith 
in himself. The next suggestion came from Roberts. Why 
not send Monmouth to quell the Scottish rising? Even¬ 
tually they decided that this was a brilliant step. I am 
to prevail upon Your Majesty to consent. Shaftesbury is 
to suggest it to you.” 

“Shaftesbury is very daring!” 

“Very. Now, Sir, the point is this: by exhibiting 
Monmouth and by circulating the cry that he is the rightful 
heir, Shaftesbury will undoubtedly excite the people. I 
have insinuated that Halifax and Essex will also be won 
over.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


351 


“They will not.” 

“Most certainly they will not. They are hot for the 
Orange. And they would never stand for Monmouth on 
account of his birth. Your Majesty will pardon me if I 
speak too plainly.” 

Charles smiled. 

“Ay, I pardon you. Go on.” 

“When they see Monmouth blazoning in Scotland, and, 
later, blazoning through England, they will be the more 
alienated from Shaftesbury. And I rather think that the 
more timorous members of the Council, still wavering, 
will be shocked at Shaftesbury’s sudden move, and will 
either join the Orange party, or withdraw from the combat. 
Especially if Your Majesty shows signs of annoyance.” 

“Very wise, Roxhythe. But are you sure of Halifax and 
Essex?” 

“Perfectly. And I am moderately sure of our dear 
Sunderland.” 

“Sunderland! Is he an Orangist?” 

“Tentatively. If the Orange cause seems likely to 
prosper, he will become an ardent member. If not—he 
will be properly indignant at the Exclusion Bill.” 

“He does not cast his eyes in Monmouth’s direction?” 

“He is too astute. Monmouth could never be King.” 

“H’m! Well, I always thought him a man of brain.” 

“He is very wily. I advise you, Sir, to consent to Mon¬ 
mouth’s generalship of the troops. Let him quell the 
rising; he has shown himself to be an able soldier. When 
the talk circulates that he is to be King after you, I shall 
be shaken with doubt. It may be that I shall affect others 
of Shaftesbury’s persuasion. It may even be that these 
eminently temperate gentlemen will draw back a little. 
Thus you have Shaftesbury standing alone. Then you may 
strike, and be sure of Essex and Halifax and Temple their 
approval.” 

Charles stopped fingering his curls. His eyes brightened. 

“ Cordieu , David, I believe you are right! Essex and the 
rest of them are afraid of Shaftesbury since they supported 
the prorogation in May. If Shaftesbury wins they fall. 


352 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Why, I shall have Shaftesbury in the hollow of my hand!” 

“It will mean a struggle,” warned Roxhythe. “He is 
a dangerous man.” 

“Whatever I do means a struggle. When I dismiss him 
Shaftesbury will move heaven and earth to defeat me, 
but it is the first step. And then—an end to our brave 
Earl!” 

“So I think, Sir.” 

Charles relaxed again. Presently he frowned. 

“Heigh-ho! I am disappointed in Monmouth. I did 
not think he would work behind me.” 

“You would not like him to step into your shoes, Sir?” 
Roxhythe glanced at him curiously. 

Charles was genuinely surprised. 

“I know that I have accorded him many rights and 
favours, but surely you cannot think that I would set him 
above James? Why, he is illegitimate!” 

Roxhythe nodded. 

“I wondered.” 

“My moral sense is not so perverted, David!” 

“No. I am glad of it.” 

Charles opened his eyes lazily. 

“Do you care, then? I thought it was all one to you?” 

“It is really. But I would sooner have James than the 
son of Lucy Walters.” 

“Of course. God’s Body, but I should be a pretty Stuart 
if I connived at that!” 

Roxhythe took up his hat. 

“But you would not connive at it.. .Well, Sir, I must 
be gone. I am due at Lord Essex his house in an hour.” 

“Poor David! Have you ever led so strenuous a life 
before?” 

“Seldom,” answered Roxhythe. He smiled a little. 

“I believe you like the game!” cried Charles, much 
amused. 

“It is not without interest,” admitted his lordship. Then 
he sighed. “They are all so easy to trick,” he deplored. 
He went out languidly. 


CHAPTER III 


Agitations 

• 

So the Duke of Monmouth went to Scotland. 

A mysterious tale arose. It was rumoured that the 
King had married Lucy Walters. There was much talk of 
a marriage certificate sealed in a certain box. Roxhythe 
attributed the tale to Shaftesbury, and affected dismay. 
He told the Earl that he had gone too far. He implored 
him to do nothing rash. Shaftesbury almost believed in 
his honesty. 

As soon as he had put down the rising, the Duke of 
Monmouth returned triumphant to London. 

Then the King fell ill. Monmouth showed himself 
everywhere on the strength of it, and my Lords Sunderland, 
Halifax and Essex implored Charles to recall the Duke 
of York. They were very much afraid that if Charles 
grew worse and died, Monmouth would succeed at once. 

Back came the Duke of York, sore at what he termed his 
banishment. From Sunderland he learned that Roxhythe 
was all for his exclusion. He thanked the pious Lord 
Sunderland for this information, and confessed that it in 
no way surprised him. He raved at Charles. Charles, 
convalescent, told him that he was a fool, and sent him 
to Scotland. Acting partly on Roxhythe’s advice, and 
partly from his own disgust at his son, he deprived Mon¬ 
mouth of his generalship, and ordered him to leave the 
country. 

Doggedly Shaftesbury clung to his cause, deserted by 
all but a few. Supported by Lords Russell and Roxhythe, 
he pushed on the persecution of the Catholics in the 
country. Several entirely innocent men were put to death, 
including eight priests. The terror of the Popish plot 
was fanned into fresh flame. Roxhythe watched carefully, 
and, at length, solemnly warned Shaftesbury that he was 

353 


354 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


going beyond all bounds. He counselled prudence, but 
by now my Lord was violent. 

The King entered into the conflict and dismissed him 
from bis post of Lord President of the Council. As 
Roxhythe had predicted, he had the Council’s full support. 

Then he summoned Roxhythe. 

“There is danger, David.” 

“Great danger, Sir. Shaftesbury is determined to win.” 

“And so am I. We shall see. I have appealed to 
France.” He frowned. 

“France has answered?” 

“Ay. Offering me degrading terms! This means I 
must call a Parliament. Heigh-ho! ’ 

“You would be wise to wait before you allow it to meet, 
Sir.” 

“I must gain time. I shall prorogue its assembly until 
November.” 

“November of ’80. If you can.” 

“I know that I can.” 

In spite of all petitions he stood firm. Parliament was 
not allowed to meet. 

Shaftesbury grew still more daring. Again Roxhythe 
was closeted with the King. 

Charles was worried. 

“Shaftesbury exceeds all bounds, David. I am fearful 
for the result.” 

“Give him rope, Sir,” advised my lord. “He’ll hang 
himself yet.” 

“I don’t doubt it. But in the meantime he is working 
much harm. What is this tale of pamphlets?” 

“Our gentle Earl has a brain, Sir. He has formed a 
body. I am one of the body. We promote agitation. In 
time Essex will join us.” 

“Roxhythe, this is serious!” 

“Not as serious as it would seem, Sir. The public is 
tired of the Popish plot. Instead of executions, we now 
have acquittals.” 

“But if Essex joins Shaftesbury it will mean great 
trouble!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


355 


“It will bring matters to a head. There will indeed be 
trouble, but if you stand firm you will win. Monmouth 
is to return.” 

Charles started up. 

“What’s that? Monmouth defy me?” 

“Shaftesbury sways him to his will. He induces him to 
come back to London.” 

“It exceeds all bounds! It is direct insolence to me!” 

“Therefore let be. It gives you yet another handle 
against our good Earl. You may trust me to further the 
dissension in the Council. Halifax is still for the Orange. 
Sunderland ...” He paused. 

“What of Sunderland?” 

“He has my admiration. He is very secret. As yet I 
can hardly say which party he supports: Orange or James. 
He waits to see which will win.” 

“God’s Body! I ani prettily served!” 

“You are, Sir.” 

“That Monmouth should treat me thus! My own son!” 

“Monmouth is a tool. You have very little to fear from 
that quarter. I have ascertained that every right-minded 
person in the country is opposed to him. They want Mary. 
Provided we can keep up the dissension, and use your 
influence in the Lords, the Exclusion Bill will be thrown 
out.” 

“And in the meantime every town is garrisoned and I 
dare not move one way or the other for fear that popular 
feeling may turn against me! All this arming smacks of 
civil war.” 

“Therefore I help to push it on. No one wants another 
war, and daily more men are coming round to your side. 

“You think that, David?” 

“I am sure of it, Sir. But use your influence in the 
Upper House. The Bill will come again very soon and 
I think it will easily pass the Commons. The Peers are 
your one hope.” 

Charles rested his head in his hand. 

“ Mordieu! I am beset! I must look again to France.” 

“Not yet. Let Shaftesbury run his course.” 


356 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Oh, ay, ay! But what of the Orangists?” 

“I told you some time ago, Sir, that Halifax blows 
cold when the rest blow hot. I believe he will oppose 
the Bill. Ostensibly it will be for the Duke of York, but 
William is at the back of his mind. He talks of another 
Bill of Securities that will vest all power in the Parliament. 
The Commons will never consent to that, I am sure. So 
if the Lords throw out the Exclusion, the Commons will 
throw out the Securities. Thus you gain time.” 

Charles sighed. 

“You are wonderful, David. So you advise me to take 
no steps?” 

The favourite dangled his gloves by their tassels. He 
was cool and very collected. 

“Not yet. Exert your influence in the Upper House and 
leave the factions to quarrel. The Country itself is divided 
in half.” 

Charles sat silent. Suddenly he rose. 

“It might be as well to recall James,” he said. 

“If you like, Sir. It will bring him before the people 
again. It may bind his supporters more closely to him; 
on the other hand it will raise fresh opposition.” 

“In fact,” said Charles, “it will raise more dissension, 
which you say we want.” 

“Then send for him, Sir.” 

A fortnight later Monmouth was travelling round 
England, having arrived in London secretly, by night, and 
Essex had joined with Shaftesbury. Russell and Caven¬ 
dish handed in their resignations, and back came the Duke 
of York to London, furious at Monmouth’s return. The 
Exclusion Bill came and went; the tide was turning in 
the King’s favour. 

Almost despairing, Shaftesbury brought in a Bill of 
Divorce, enabling the King to put away his Queen and 
re-marry. Charles was very angry; the Duke of York was 
more so. 

Then Roxhythe brought new and disturbing news to 
Court. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


357 


“Sire, Shaftesbury is desperate, but he contemplates a 

last blow.” 

“What is it?” asked Charles. 

The Duke, who was present, eyed Roxhythe malevolently. 

“He seeks to impeach Lord Stafford.” 

Charles sank back in his chair. 

“Impossible!” 

“It is infamous!” snapped the Duke. “It can come to 
naught.” 

Roxhythe turned. 

“Your pardon, Sir, it can come to a great deal.” 

“Lord Stafford’s age protects him!” 

“Not from the fury of the mob.” 

“You are right,” said Charles wearily. “His trial 
would inflame them again. Shaftesbury knows that.” 

“I have done all in my power to dissuade him, but he 
had a strong support. It has also come to his ears, through 
Essex, that I have not played his game alone. He looks 
on me with an eye of suspicion once more.” 

“As well he might!” 

Roxhythe smiled blandly upon his Grace. 

“As well he might,” he agreed. 

Charles frowned. 

“I’ll have no bickering! Roxhythe works in my interests 
and yours, James.” 

The Duke sneered. He did not relish being rebuked in 
front of the favourite. 

“David, if the jury finds Stafford guilty I am undone. 
Already Louis stands against me, and if Shaftesbury 
succeeds in this, Sunderland will take fright again. What 
would you have me do?” 

“Stafford must not die!” said James harshly. ”It were 
iniquitous!” 

Roxhythe walked to the window. He spoke with his 
back to the room. 

“It may mean Stafford or you, Sir.” 

James gnawed his lip. The King’s eyes were brooding. 

“I might intervene.” 

Silence. 


353 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“What say you, David?” 

“You must intervene!” cried James. 

“David!” 

Roxhythe shrugged. 

“You’ll lose all that we have been fighting for, Sir. 
Perhaps your throne.” 

“You think that?” 

“Your Majesty knows the temper of a mob. If it is 
baulked of its victim it may turn on you.” 

“But, cordieu! Surely Stafford is innocent?” 

“Undoubtedly. That will avail him naught.” 

“No jury will find him guilty!” rasped James. 

“I think no jury will dare acquit him.” 

“ Sangdieu, am I King, or am I not?” cried Charles. 

“At present, Sir, you are King.” 

“Is it possible, Lord Roxhythe, that you advise Stafford’s 
death?” asked James scathingly. 

“I advise naught, sir. It is for His Majesty to decide.” 

“It seems I am impotent,” said Charles. His voice held 
much of bitterness. “Why did I return to this ungrateful 
people?” 

“God knows, Sir.” 

“And what if I allow them to murder Stafford? Is it 
the end? Can I make it the end?” 

“You will be nearing the end. Shaftesbury thinks to 
hold you at his mercy on account of the poverty of the 
Treasury. He relies on your enforced consent to the 
Exclusion. If you can wring money from France the end 
is in sight.” 

“Faugh!” James flung himself back in his chair. “My 
God, to what are we coming?” 

Charles was thinking quickly. 

“I am still negotiating with Louis ... it might be 
possible.” 

“Mille diables, Sir, consider!” 

“Pray calm yourself, James. Do you want the Crown?” 

“Ay! But not this way!” 

“How then?” 

James was silent. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


359 


“In Stafford’s place I would readily die, Sir.” 

James burst out again. 

“Very noble, Lord Roxhythe, and easily said! You are 
not in his place!” 

“At seventy, and lying in prison, death should be wel¬ 
come,” said Roxhythe imperturbably. 

“A traitor’s death? You sicken me! You revolt me!” 

“Have done!” commanded the King. “It is Stafford or 
ourselves. And he has not yet been tried. Wait.” 

“Call out the army!” snapped James. “Arrest Mon¬ 
mouth and Shaftesbury.” 

Roxhythe smiled. The smile infuriated His Grace. 

“Ay, sneer my lord, sneer! How do I know that you 
are not deliberately advising my brother to his undoing? 
You are very sanguine as to the result of this execution! 
What do you know? You would do well to have a care!” 

The brown eyes grew haughty. 

“Your Grace is insulting.” 

“ Sangdieu! Has it come to that? I am insulting? I 
tell you, my lord—” 

Charles rose. He was no longer one of them. He was 
the King. 

“You are both lacking in respect to me. I will have no 
quarrelling here. James, you speak wildly. Roxhythe, 
you may go.” 

My lord picked up his hat and bowed. 

“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon.” He left the room. 

The King turned to his brother. 

“James, I request that you will not speak thus to 
Roxhythe. You should know by now that he acts only in 
my interests.” 

“The man is double-faced! He hates me!” 

“You have not given him over-much cause to love you. 
I warn you, do not anger him.” 

Two red spots burnt on the Duke’s cheekbones. 

“Your Majesty asks too much of me! I also have a 
warning! Do not trust Roxhythe!” 

Charles looked at him, half smiling. He seemed to slip 
back into his easy placidity. 

“You are a fool, James,” he said, quite pleasantly. 


CHAPTER IV 


The King his Triumph 

Sir Jasper came slowly into his wife’s room. Lady 
Frances knew from his face that he was troubled. She 
could guess the cause. She was reading a letter from 
Christopher, but it fell to the ground as she sprang up. 

“Oh, Jasper—no!” 

Montgomery took her hands. 

“My dear ...” 

Unaccustomed tears came to her eyes. 

“They won’t let him die! Oh, they cannot!” 

“The sentence was read to-day.” 

Lady Frances pulled her hands away. 

“It’s too awful! too cruel! He never had a thought of— 
plotting! He was so sweet—so—” She broke down. 

Montgomery watched her pitifully. 

“Dear ...” 

“They cannot believe—him guilty of—these monstrous 
charges!” 

“They do not. But public feeling is too strong. My lord 
made an excellent defence, but to no avail. The judges 
affected to believe Tuberville’s lies. Tuberville swore 
that Stafford had engaged him to murder the King, five 
years ago.” 

Lady Frances tried to check her tears. 

“The King—will not—intervene?” 

“My dear, I have long since given up expecting aught 
but selfishness from the King.” 

She twisted her hands. 

“It is death?” 

“Yes. I’ll not revolt you with the details.” 

She shuddered. 

“He is—so old! They surely—cannot hang him—and— 
oh, it is too awful!” 


360 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


361 


It is believed that the King will refuse his consent to 
that. We can only hope for decapitation.” 

Lady Frances turned away, biting her lip. 

“I knew him so well! Papa—was one of his—dearest 
friends. I—oh, there’s naught but cruelty and—lowness 
in England!” 

“We are indeed come to a pretty pass,” sighed Mont¬ 
gomery. “I never heard palpable lies so easily swallowed. 
The whole affair was disgraceful. The King was present, 
and the Duchess of Portsmouth. Her Grace might have 
comported herself more decently, I thought.” 

“I daresay.” Lady Frances picked up Christopher’s 
letter. Her voice still trembled. 

“Chris—seems more at ease. He—writes cheerfully. He 
is very busy.” 

“I am glad he went away before all this trouble came 
to a head,” said Montgomery. “I wonder what part 
Roxhythe plays?” 

“I had rather—not know,” said his wife. 

Bit by bit Shaftesbury’s adherents fell away from him. 
Roxhythe still ostensibly helped on his cause, but the 
Earl neither trusted nor mistrusted him. He believed that 
Roxhythe wanted the Exclusion but he knew that he had 
intrigued with the Orangist faction. The Cause was prac¬ 
tically hopeless now, for the execution of Stafford had 
somewhat appalled the mob. Monmouth still blazed 
through England, and James clamoured for his arrest. It 
was Roxhythe who counselled the King to hold his hand. 

Divining the calming temper of the mob, Shaftesbury 
tried to revive the terror of the Popish Plot. Roxhythe 
urged him to take action, knowing that, as a result, more 
members would join the Crown. 

Then came the Exclusion Bill again, and the King 
moved at last. 

“David,” he said, “I shall now prorogue Parliament.” 

“You could not do better, Sir,” agreed Roxhythe. “Your 
popularity with the people is growing. They have begun 
to consider.” 


362 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“What do they consider?” 

“Your attitude. They laud you for refusing to listen 
to Monmouth’s claim. They see in it a just regard for 
your brother.” 

“How do you know, David? Ton my soul, you are 
sublime!” 

“I am indeed. I have done more work in these past 
months than I ever thought to do in a lifetime. And I 
am a frequenter of taverns and public meetings. It is 
most amusing.” 

“No one suspects you?” 

“On the contrary, everyone suspects me. Sunderland 
guesses that I informed you of his duplicity; Halifax will 
no longer traffic with me; Essex warns Shaftesbury to 
have no dealings with me. My day is nearly done, but 
I know enough. Shaftesbury’s ruin is in sight, and it 
but remains to snare the rest. One man alone trusts me.” 

“Who is he?” 

“Monmouth.” 

The King recoiled a little. 

“I don’t want him ruined, David! I love him.” 

“Certainly, Sir. But through him I can catch at the 
rest.” 

*‘I—cannot—believe that he is willingly against me!” 

Roxhythe looked down at his hands for a moment. 

“Why, Sir,” he said slowly, “do not distress yourself. 
Monmouth is weak; he has been led away.” 

“You say that to console me,” answered Charles. “I 
will not conceal from you, David, that it has hurt me 
more than all else.” 

“I repeat, Sir: he is weak. And very young.” 

“Yes,” assented Charles. “He is young, of course ...” 
He sighed. “Well, David, repinings will not help me. 

I am minded to appeal to the nation.” 

“A declaration . . . Well, I think the nation will 
support you.” 

“So do I,” nodded the King, more cheerfully. 

He was right. The Declaration was the one thing needed 
to seal the change in the people’s temper. The country 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


363 


was plunged into a sea of loyalty, and Shaftesbury, almost 
despairing, withdrew to his house in Aldersgate Street, 
where he proceeded to gather round him certain citizens 
of London who, he boasted, would rise at a moment’s 
notice. 

Then came a diversion in the shape of William Nassau, 
who visited London again with Charles’ consent, although 
the Duke of York, already wary of him, besought the King 
to forbid his coming. 

William was as secret as ever, but his uncle could guess 
his intentions. He wanted to bring England into league 
with him against France. He wanted Charles to summon 
a new Parliament. During his stay in London he very 
frequently visited the Duke of Monmouth and his follow¬ 
ers. Charles lifted his brows at that, confessing to 
Roxhythe that he would give much for a peep into his 
nephew’s mind. 

When William at length left England he had extracted 
a promise from the King that he would call a new 
Parliament if Louis again invaded the Low Countries. 

“Sir,’’ said Bentinck. “Does Your Highness trust His 
Majesty at last?” 

“I trust no Englishman,” answered William shortly. 
“But I think to see upheavals in England.” More he would 
not vouchsafe. 

“Sir,” said Roxhythe. “What of Louis?” 

“Dear David,” replied Charles. “Am I a fool? I 
have placated M. Barillon. Louis plans to attack Luxem¬ 
bourg.” 

“Ah! And you?” 

“I believe I shall be blind to it,” answered Charles 
placidly. 

“I see,” said Roxhythe. “To what figure does he go?” 

“He is very mean. Only a million livres,” sighed 
Charles. “I must recall James once more. He grows a 
thought too violent in Scotland. ’ 

Meanwhile Roxhythe was sowing hesitancy in Mon¬ 
mouth’s mind. The Young Duke was planning a rising 
all over the country, but Roxhythe, by some miraculous 


364 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


means or other, kept him uncertain, not daring to move 
boldly in any one direction, ever procrastinating, and 
ploughing through what seemed to him a bog of insur¬ 
mountable difficulties. 

Shaftesbury, already desperate, and fearing to be be¬ 
trayed by the Duke’s wavering spirit, found that his brave 
London citizens were not to be relied on, and gave up the 
struggle, broken. He had reason to think that he would 
be arrested again, and, this time, not released. He feared 
Roxhythe, although he had no proof of my lord’s duplicity. 
Ill bodily, and more ill in spirit, he left London hurriedly 
and arrived in Holland in the middle of November, 1682. 

He was suffering from an internal disease, and that, 
coupled with the many worries gathered about his head, 
hastened on his end. Some few weeks after his arrival 
in Amsterdam he died, broken-hearted, conscious of utter 
failure. 

“So I win,” remarked the King. 

“I told you, Sir, that you should give him rope,” replied 
Roxhythe. 

“I had not dared without you, Davy.” 

“Oh, I think you would!” smiled my lord. “We can 
now almost touch the end.” 

“It is ended,” said Charles. 

“Not while Russell and Essex are at large, Sir,” replied 
the favourite. “Wait!” 


CHAPTER V 


Plots 

‘‘David, ye are a rogue! We see you less and less at 
Whitehall!” said Charles. 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“I crave your pardon, Sir. In truth, I am busied with 
Your Majesty’s affairs.” 

“Let be! They are very well.” 

“Sir, they may be well for the moment, but as long as 
Russell and Essex and Sydney are at large trouble will 
continue to brew.” 

Charles waved his hand impatiently. 

“How can you prevent their being at large? Let be!” 

“Sire, one word I seem to have repeated a number of 
times: wait! I am deep in plots.” 

“I am tired of plots and plotters.” 

“Why, so am I. So I seek to make an end.” 

“Ye are very mysterious, Davy! Are you playing some 
deep game, I wonder?” 

“I am amusing myself, Sir.” 

“That means that you will say no more. Well, well!” 

My Lord Roxhythe accompanied His Majesty to New¬ 
market Races, as was his wont. Five days before the 
appointed day of departure he had speech with Charles. 

“Sire, will you be advised by me?” 

Charles, lolling on a couch, stretched out his long legs, 
yawning. 

“Roxhythe, you have become as secret as the grave! 
What now?” 

“I ask you to return to London in two days’ time.” 

The sleepy eyes opened. 

“Oho! More plots?” 

“The strings of which I am gathering into my hands.” 

“And you’ll tell me naught?” 

365 


366 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Not yet, Sir. I must first enmesh my victims.” 

Charles yawned again. 

“I am sick of plots.” 

“So I shall not worry you with this. But return to 
London the day after to-morrow, taking the Duke of York 
with you.” 

“Very well, David. As you please.” 

Thus it came about that the King and his brother drove 
quietly past Mr. Rumbald’s house at Hoddesdon two days 
before the appointed time. And Mr. Rumbald, who had 
arranged with one Goodenough and various others, to lie 
in ambush till the coach passed and then to stop it, and 
to murder the occupants, was justly incensed. He saw 
the coach go by, but he was alone in the house, awaiting 
his fellow-conspirators who were to arrive on the morrow, 
and he dared not attempt the deed. 

Meanwhile, my Lord Roxhythe visited His Grace of 
Monmouth who was living in seclusion. 

Monmouth greeted him effusively. 

“Dear Roxhythe! I have been expecting you.” 

My lord disengaged himself. 

“I have been at Newmarket, Sir, and could not come 
before.” 

Monmouth drew him to a chair. 

“Sit down, my lord! sit down! I think you know 
Mr. Ferguson?” 

Roxhythe turned to look at the grim Scotsman. 

“I have that honour,” he bowed. 

“Yes, I have met his lordship,” said the pamphleteer 
harshly. 

Roxhythe glanced round the room. 

“I do not see Lord Russell?” 

“He is away from town,” answered Grey, one of Mon¬ 
mouth’s staunchest adherents. “He works to raise the West 
Country.” 

“He is too finicking,” said Mr. Sydney suddenly. “Too 
cautious.” 

Sydney was a very thorough Whig. In the past he had 
fought under Cromwell. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 367 

“Ohi” protested Monmouth. “We have surely need of 
caution!” 

Mr. Trenchard, rough and ready, uplifted his voice. 

“He makes no progress. Taunton will rise at my call.” 

Monmouth smiled. 

“We are indeed pleased with you, Mr. Trenchard.” 

Roxhythe bit back a smile. 

“It seems we make very little progress in any way,” 
grumbled Sydney. “ We cannot rely on any part of 
the country to rise.” 

“We must have patience,” said Monmouth vaguely. 

“Patience will avail us naught! The longer we wait 
the more we lose!” 

Someone argued this hotly. Others joined in. 

“Peace, peace!” cried Armstrong. “Do ye quarrel in 
his Highness’ presence?” 

“Ay,” nodded Monmouth. “I cannot have this babel.” 

“Highness, all this dilly-dallying is a weakness!” 

“Lord Grey is right!” Ferguson sat up. “We have to 

StTllcP Qf t|'|p jiporl ? ^ 

“That is right,” struck in Mr. Sydney. “The Duke should 
die.” 

“How?” interposed Roxhythe. His soft voice easily 
made itself heard above the bickering at one end of the 
room. 

Ferguson glowered at him. 

“There are many ways.” 

“Yet one should be decided on.” 

“He might be intercepted as he returns from the play¬ 
house.” 

Monmouth expostulated. 

“Gentlemen, gentlemen! I’ll have no murder.” 

“You cannot make war in gloves, sir,” retorted Lord 
Grey. “There must be killing. If we strike at the root 
we shall avoid undue slaughter.” 

“I cannot have murder,” reiterated Monmouth. To show' 
his displeasure he went aside with one Colonel Rumsey. 

Ferguson drew his chair closer to Mr. Sydney’s. 

“We want more than the Duke.” 


368 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Sydney shot him a warning glance. But Roxhythe was 
not attending; he was holding a languid argument with 
Lord Grey. 

“I’m with you there. While the King lives we shall have 
trouble.” 

“Our rights he destroys, our religion he curbs!” Fer¬ 
guson’s eyes were fanatic. 

“Monmouth would never consent.” 

Ferguson lowered his eyes. 

“If Monmouth is tiresome . . .’’he left a pause. “What 
think you of him?” By a faint movement of the head he 
indicated Roxhythe. 

Sydney frowned. 

“Untrustworthy. Too secret. But His Grace is blind to it.” 

“I’d have no dealings with him.” 

“Nor I. Except that he may prove useful.” 

“How?” 

“He could help to overthrow the guards at Whitehall. 
It is ahvays well to have one on the inside.” 

“Ay, but he would not do it. He’ll stop short of killing 
Charles.” 

“He need not know. He is agog for the Duke to be 
disposed of.” 

“He is double-faced. I fear that he’ll betray us.” 

“Not a whit. For his own safety he dare not. If the 
Duke succeeds his day is o’er. And Rumsey vouches for 
him.” 

Monmouth came back into the middle of the room. 

“Gentlemen, it has come to my ears that there was lately 
a plot on foot to murder His Majesty and the Duke of York 
on their way from Newmarket!” 

Grey shrugged and said nothing. Armstrong glanced at 
Roxhythe. 

“My lord, did this come within your ken?” 

“I heard rumours,” admitted Roxhythe. “Whence comes 
Your Grace’s knowledge?” 

“From Wildman. He seemed to know much of the plot, 
and spoke of one Rumbald. Understand me, gentlemen, 
I will not have it!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


369 


Mr. Sydney was hurt. 

“Does Your Highness insinuate that any of us were 
privy to it?” 

Monmouth shrugged peevishly. 

“I know that Wildman was, so why not more of you? 
I will not countenance it!” 

There was an uncomfortable silence. 

“Should we not come to business, sir?” asked Grey. 

“We cannot decide aught until we hear from Russell,” 
answered Monmouth. 

“Then we are likely to remain inactive for some time!” 
Mr. Trenchard snarled. “All this indecision is ruinous to 
the cause.” 

“I would I had not lost Shaftesbury,” mourned the 
Duke. 

“He acted the coward’s part! We were well rid of him!” 
snapped Trenchard. 

“Shaftesbury was a wise man,” murmured Sydney. “So, 

T triin k ic T nrrl F qqpy 

“By the way,” drawled Roxhythe. “Where is Essex?” 

“He is not here,” sighed Monmouth. 

“I had perceived it, sir,” said Roxhythe drily. “Is he 
ever here?” 

“Seldom.” Monmouth was cast down for a moment. 
“But I doubt he is very much in our interests,” he con¬ 
tinued, more brightly. 

Trenchard snorted. 

“I cannot see that Russell and Essex their absence need 
hinder us from deciding on a course of action!” cried 
Ferguson. “We remain inert from week’s end to week’s 
end! Strike! Strike!” 

“You speak like a fool!” Lord Grey was angry. “How 
can we move until we are sure of the West Country’s 
support?” 

“I disagree!” Sydney took up the cudgels. "This talk 
of rising is impracticable! If we had the army with us 
it would be different, but what are we?—A mere handful, 
with possibilities of some counties behind us. Only fools 
count on possibilities!” 


370 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Armstrong joined in. 

“Ye are insulting, Sydney! We must wait, and the possi¬ 
bilities will turn to certainties/’ 

“Ay!” Mr. Sydney sneered. “Next century!” 

“Sydney is right!” Up started Ferguson. “We must 
strike a decisive blow at the root of the trouble! Kill the 
Papist James! I have three hundred Scotsmen in London 
to-day, and they will rise at my call! Storm Whitehall, 
and possess ourselves of the city! The other counties 
will never rise for us until they see that we mean business.” 

“Wild and impracticable,” declared Armstrong. “We 
must wait.” 

Sydney thumped the table. 

“Wait till we ruin all by our waiting! Oh, ay, Sir 
Thomas! Good advice!” 

“Do you provoke me, Sir?” Armstrong’s hand went to 
his sword-hilt. 

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” implored Monmouth. “I must 
beg you to be silent.” 

“Highness, I’ll brook no insult from Mr. Sydney! He 
has sneered at my advice. Then let him suggest better, or 
withdraw his words!” 

“I have already voiced my suggestion! I’ll voice it no 
more! ‘It is meant for men who do not give way to 
squeamish, timorous doubts!” 

Lord Grey arose. 

“Mr. Sydney, you pass all bounds! Am I a timorous 
man? Your suggestions are foolish, and thoughtless!” 

“Meant for men!” cried Ferguson. 

“Ay, meant for men!” said Sydney. “All you and Sir 
Thomas do, Grey, is to counsel inaction! What good is 
there in that?” 

“You had best have a care, sir! I do not stand criticism 
from you!” 

“What’s that?” Mr. Sydney came to his feet. “You’ll 
answer for that, Lord Grey!” 

“Will no one stop me this babel?” cried Monmouth. 
‘It is disgraceful! 1 will not have it! Lord Grey, I beg 
you will not speak hastily! Mr. Sydney—” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


371 


“Mr. Sydney has insulted me, sir!” 

“Sydney speaks very truly! You waver and hesitate, 
and have not the courage to strike a blow!” 

“You had best guard your tongue, Mr. Ferguson!” 

“Ay!” Armstrong was flushed. “An you dare—” 

Roxhythe stood up. He seemed to tower above them. 
His lazy eyes travelled slowly round the room from the 
angry, distracted Monmouth, to the squabbling men by the 
table. 

“An I dare?” cried Ferguson. “Dare? Dare? I’d have 
you know, sir, that I dare all! and—” 

“Thank you. That will do.” The calm, haughty voice 
penetrated the din. There fell a sudden hush. All eyes 
were turned to the tall, graceful figure standing by Mon¬ 
mouth, with one hand upraised. 

Roxhythe indicated a chair. 

“Mr. Sydney, resume your seat.” 

Sydney’s eyes flashed. 

“Sir!” 

The cold voice grew yet more gentle. 

“Mr. Sydney?” 

“I’ll—I’ll not have this—tone—to me ...” Mr. Sydney 
sat down, fuming. 

Roxhythe turned to Grey. 

“You too, my lord. Mr. Ferguson, you will please 
remember his Grace’s presence. This childish quarrelling 
is both futile and unseemly.” 

“I’ll have ye know, sir, that Ferguson takes orders from 
no man!” 

The faintest suspicion of a smile crossed my lord’s 
eyes. 

“Do ye seek to rouse mine ire, sir?” 

The smile crept down to Roxhythe’s lips. 

“You would do well to sit down, Mr. Ferguson,” said 
my lord softly. 

Ferguson flung over to the window. 

“Thank you. Allow me to say that while you are all 
at variance, action is impossible.” He picked up his 
hat. 


372 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Roxhythe hits the very root of the matter,” said Mon¬ 
mouth. “You are all under my displeasure.” 

“How are we to he assured of Lord Roxhythe his 
loyalty?” sneered Sydney. 

“Any insult to Roxhythe I take to myself!” flashed 
Monmouth. “Mort de ma vie! To what are we coming? 
You may be silent, Mr. Sydney!” 

“What advice has Roxhythe ever given?” answered 
Sydney, waxing hotter. “What has he done to help us?” 

“Lord Roxhythe has given me sager counsel than any 
of you!” 

“I will give you one piece of advice, Sydney,” said my 
lord. “It is that you have a care to that unruly tongue of 
yours. It is like to lead you to disaster.” 

“Do you threaten me, my lord?” 

“I have never been known to do such a thing,” smiled 
my lord. 

Mr. Sydney said nothing further. Roxhythe turned to 
Monmouth. 

“Your Grace, I do counsel you to await Lord Russell his 
return. Be sure of your supporters; do nothing rashly. 
When the time comes, strike firm and true; above all, strike 
home. But do not endanger success by precipitous action. 
Permit me to take my leave.” 

Monmouth smiled graciously. 

“You speak with great sense, my lord. I am entirely 
of your mind.” 

Roxhythe bowed and walked out. 

“I applaud Roxhythe,” said Grey. “He at least has 
a brain.” 


Late that evening, Colonel Rumsey presented himself at 
Bevan House. He was taken to Roxhythe’s private room. 
My lord waved him to a chair. 

“Sit down, sir. Did they continue to quarrel this morn- 

• O?) A 

mg? 

Rumsey chose the most uncomfortable chair in the room, 
and sat gingerly on the edge. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


373 


“They did, my lord. They fell to arguing over your 
loyalty. Grey upheld you; Armstrong of course deems you 
true. But Sydney and Ferguson mistrust you.” 

“It matters not in the least. I have learnt enough to 
hang every man amongst them.” 

Rumsey looked at him uneasily. 

“My lord, I do not like the part I have to play.” 

“No?” said Roxhythe. “I am sorry.” 

Rumsey twisted his fingers. 

“My lord, expose the plot yourself! Do not ask me 
to do so!” 

“I do not ask,” said his lordship sweetly. 

“You have me in a vice!” Rumsey flung out his hands. 

“Yes,” agreed Roxhythe. 

“If I refuse to betray these men, you will do it and 
betray me with them. My lord, have a little pity!” 

The scorn in Roxhythe’s eyes made Rumsey wince. The 
fine lips curled. 

“I have no mercy for those who plot against His 
Majesty’s person,” said my lord. His voice was like ice; 
but it was ice that concealed a fire. “If I followed mine 
inclination I would have you strung up—ay, and quartered. 
But as a price for your obedience I give you your life, 
such as it is.” 

Rumsey was white to the lips. Roxhythe fascinated him 
as a cat fascinates a mouse. He could not look away from 
that disdainful face. 

“My lord,” he stammered. “Have pity! To turn in¬ 
former! I—” He broke off hopelessly. Roxhythe was 
smiling. “I am afraid!” he cried desperately. 

“So I perceive. If you refuse to do my bidding you 
will have good cause to be afraid.” 

“My lord, my lord, why do you want me to do it? Why 
do you not do it yourself?” 

“It is not my will. If you disclose my hand in the matter 
you will know what to expect.” 

Rumsey passed his tongue between his dry lips. 

“And if I do not? If I obey?” 

“Have I not said? I give you your life.” 


374 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“How do I know that you will not hurl me to destruc¬ 
tion when my work is done?” 

“It were not worth my while,” answered Roxhythe 
pleasantly. 

“And Keyling? Is he in your power too?” asked 
Rumsey. 

“Certainly.” 

“You—you—devil!” said Rumsey, almost hysterically. 

“I should advise you to be more civil,” said Roxhythe. 
“I am not the man to be rude to.” 

Rumsey bit his lip. Suddenly he looked up. 

“My lord, have you not thought that I might implicate 
you? You have been in this plot—” He stopped, stricken 
by the sight of that slow, pitying smile. 

“Do you think His Majesty is not aware of the part I 
play?” asked Roxhythe. 


CHAPTER VI 


Monmouth 

“All is meet for the sacrifice,” remarked Roxhythe. 

Charles looked up, interested. 

“Am I to know at last?” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“In truth you have been very much in the dark, Sir. 
You are to know.” 

“Then come and tell me! Are you about to deliver 
me from Russell and Essex?” 

“Also Grey, and Sydney, and Hampden. And Ferguson.” 

“Good God, Roxhythe, you have done your work well! 
Are all these people in league against me?” 

“There are many more,” said Roxhythe calmly. “Those 
are the principals.” 

Charles looked at him anxiously. 

“What of Monmouth, David?” 

“He plans a rising all over the country, but he reso¬ 
lutely refused to listen to the idea of your assassination.” 

The King started. 

“I should be grateful, I suppose! Is there in very 
truth a plot to murder me?” 

“There are several, Sir. All equally wild, but equally 
dastardly.” 

“God’s death! I had no notion ’twas so serious!” 

“Nor is it, Sir. But by making it seem so we can ensnare 
your enemies.” 

“Speak plainly, Roxhythe! Let me know all that there 
is to know.” 

“Very well, Sir.” Roxhythe moved to a chair. “Some 
time ago I came across one Keyling, a salter, and one 
who was embroiled in a certain quarrel with the Lord 
Mayor some while back. He goes in fear of his skin on 
account of it. He was also so unwise as to enter a plot 

375 


376 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


’gainst your life. He is a very thorough Whig, you see.” 

“Wait, David! How in heaven’s name did you come to 
know him?” 

“I have frequented a certain tavern in Aldgate where 
these gentlemen meet from time to time. I observed them 
all very closely. The rest I got from Rumsey.” 

“Who is Rumsey?” 

“We shall come to him, Sir. Well, this Keyling is not 
too scrupulous, and not too loyal. A little bribery, and 
voila! he was my man. He was more than ever my man 
when I hinted at the affair with the Lord Mayor. He 
turned informer to save himself. From him I gathered 
that there was a party of men engaged to dispose of Your 
Majesty and the Duke of York. A certain fellow, 
Rumbald, headed them. They planned to shoot you on 
your way from Newmarket. The appointed spot was Rye 
House, near Hoddesdon, which is where Rumbald lives. 
I counselled you to leave Newmarket two days before the 
appointed time, and the plot came to naught. But they 
continue to scheme, and this time they seek to kill you 
in London. They hold lengthy meetings at a certain Devil 
Tavern. They are joined by Rumsey and Ferguson, pos¬ 
sibly Sydney.” 

“You’re very cool!” said Charles, half-laughing. 

“It is so interesting. For this is where the two plots 
meet.” 

“ ’Sblood! What is the other plot?” 

“The Monmouth rising that I spoke of. Monmouth 
hath a large following: Russell, Essex, Armstrong, Grey, 
Sydney, Trenchard and a score of others. Monmouth, 
Russell and Essex seek only to rise and to force you to de¬ 
clare Monmouth the heir, but Sydney and Ferguson wish to 
kill you. Ferguson would murder Monmouth too if neces¬ 
sary. He is by no means a pleasant character. They hold 
meetings at the house of one Shepherd. Lord Russell has 
been there many times, and there has been much treasonable 
talk. All this I have from Rumsey, whom I hold, as he 
puts it, in a vice.” 

Charles uncrossed his legs and sat upright. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


377 


“Who—is—Rumsey ? ” 

Roxhythe opened his eyes rather wide. 

“A creature of no account,” he said. “One of Mon¬ 
mouth’s followers.” 

The King leaned back again with a sigh of relief. 

“At last! Why have you him in a vice?” 

“I know a waverer when I see one, Sir. I easily dis¬ 
covered him. I told him that I had ample proofs of his 
meetings with Rumbald at the Devil Tavern. I fright¬ 
ened him, and, perforce, he became my man. I have 
promised him his life, as a price of which he will turn 
informer when I tell him.” 

“He will incriminate Russell?” 

“He will incriminate anyone that I wish.” 

Charles was openly admiring. 

“You are wonderful, David!” 

“It was really very easy,” disclaimed my lord. “But it 
will prove useful. The plot can be used as Shaftesbury 
used the Popish plot. You will gain power by it.” 

“And be rid of those who seek to bring about the 
Exclusion. When do these men lodge their information?” 

“There are still one or two minor details that we must 
discover if we are to trap Essex. In about a week.” 

“Meanwhile I shall be murdered,” said Charles cheer¬ 
fully. 

“Not a whit, Sir. If you could but see these schemers 
you would laugh at the thought of their ever moving either 
one way or another. They fight amongst themselves; they 
waver, they hesitate. Monmouth is swayed this way and 
that. They meet to decide on some sort of action, and 
when they are assembled they bewail the fact that they 
cannot, after all, come to a decision as one of their 
number is not present. If one puts forward a scheme, the 
rest pounce on it and tear it to bits. Then they come to 
blows—or would, if Monmouth did not intervene. It is the 
wildest, silliest band of malcontents I ever was in.” 

“It is because Monmouth is no leader of men. In battle, 
yes. But he has no fixity of purpose. A pity.” 

“In this case, Sir, a good thing.” 


378 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Charles rested his head in his hand. 

“I wish he were not acting thus against me. It—hurts, 
David—though I suppose I encourage him. I should never 
have accorded him the rights I did. It put higher ideas 
into his pate . . . Does he trust you?” 

“Implicitly. I have given him a little obvious advice 
and he imagines that I am wholly with him. Sydney 
mistrusts me, but Grey stands for me because I studiously 
agree with what he says. Rumsey assures the rest of my 
loyalty. They think to hold me in their hands on account 
of the Duke of York his hatred for me. It never enters 
their heads that I work for you alone.” 

“I see. Does it irk you, I wonder?” 

“Does what irk me, Sir?” 

“The double part you play: delivering these men into 
my hands.” 

Roxhythe’s eyes flashed suddenly. 

“Sire, where you are concerned I have no pity.” 

********* 

And so, at last Roxhythe having all the threads at his 
finger-tips, started to pull them, so that the Great Whig 
Plot fell in ruins about its makers. Roxhythe worked still 
in the shadows, and so deftly did he play his part that his 
name was never mentioned. One by one he set his hapless 
tools to do his bidding, secure in the knowledge that they 
dared not refuse. Keyling and Rumsey disclosed all that 
they knew, but they were carefully coached by Roxhythe, 
and on every occasion they denied that Monmouth had 
ever countenanced the idea of assassinating the King or 
the Duke. Very skilfully was the betrayal done, bit by 
bit, till at last the network of information was complete, 
woven together by a master-hand. 

Proclamation was issued, ordering the arrest of Mon¬ 
mouth and his chief followers: Grey, Russell, Ferguson 
and others. My lord’s work was well done, and so 
thoroughly that no loop-hole was left through which the 
incriminated men, save Monmouth, might creep. All that 
Roxhythe had striven for since first he joined Shaftesbury 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


379 


and Holies was accomplished. It had entailed endless 
toil, constant alertness of brain and unfailing persever¬ 
ance. And now it was finished, the task that had been 
so colossal, and which, to any other man, would have 
seemed impossible. Step by step my lord had entered 
into almost every plot for over a year, and had gradually 
drawn those implicated into a cunning net whose strings 
were held by a relentless, merciless hand. My lord’s quick 
brain was moving all the time, linking each tiny plot into 
one whole, leading on the men he was tricking, until, by 
their actions, they gave him damning evidence against them¬ 
selves. Not until the evidence was complete did he draw 
the strings tight. To act too early would have meant 
failure, to act too late might have meant disaster. Coolly 
Roxhythe awaited the right moment, never losing patience, 
never relaxing his vigilance. The moment had come, and at 
last his task was over. The King’s enemies were smashed, 
and the King sat firm upon his throne. Only one thing 
remained to be done. Because Charles wished it, Mon¬ 
mouth must be saved. 

Thus it was that my Lord Roxhythe went to wait upon 
His Grace of Monmouth. 

The young man was in a state of terror. He almost 
clung to Roxhythe. 

“My lord, ye see how we have been betrayed I” 

Roxhythe looked at him thoughtfully. 

“What am I to do?” went on Monmouth. “Does the 
King suspect you?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe, smiling. “He does not.” 

Lord Grey had entered the room. He spoke now with 
suppressed fury. 

“He has good reason not to suspect Lord Roxhythe!” he 
said. 

Monmouth recoiled. 

“What’s that? No, no! Roxhythe, you have not be¬ 
trayed me?” 

My lord ate a comfit. 

“I could kill you where you stand, you lying devil!’ 
said Grey. 


380 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“No, you could not,” replied his lordship tranquilly. 

“Roxhythe, Roxhythe, it is not true! Good God, you 
could not have betrayed me!” 

“Could he not, sir? Do you forget Sydney’s warnings? 
Alas, that I ignored them! Rumsey has turned informer, 
but who was behind Rumsey? Who prompted him to tell 
such a careful mixture of truth and lies? He had not 
the brain, I know!” 

Monmouth clung to the table. 

“Roxhythe, speak!” He was very near tears. 

Roxhythe shut his comfit-box. 

“Gently, sir. Do not agitate yourself. Lord Grey, either 
leave the room or behave sanely.” 

Grey had drawn his sword. Murder was in his eyes. 

“Will you draw, sir?” 

“Certainly not.” 

Monmouth caught at Grey’s arm. 

“Fool, fool! We are surely ruined if you kill Roxhythe! 
Put up your sword! I command it!” 

Reluctantly Grey obeyed. Monmouth sat down limply. 

“Roxhythe—explain! Deny that you betrayed me!” 

“I wonder that Your Grace ever believed I should do 
otherwise. I am the King his man. You were all very 
guileless.” 

“We were honest!” cried Grey. “We—foolishly— 

judged you by ourselves!” 

“Then you were indeed foolish. You counted on my 
dislike for the Duke of York. You forgot my love for the 
King.” 

“Oh, my God!” choked Monmouth. “ How could you 
do it? You have ruined me!” 

Roxhythe’s smile was sarcastic. 

“I have prevented your ruin, Sir.” 

“How can you say so? Don’t seek to excuse yourself!” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“I said, don’t seek to excuse yourself!” 

Grey watched the smile come again, sick at heart. 

“I most certainly shall not excuse myself,” said my lord 
haughtily. “Had it been necessary I would have ruined 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


381 


Your Grace. As it is I have saved you. It was not my 
deliberate intention.” 

You confound me with your riddles! What have you 
done to save me?” 

“I have very effectually prevented your rising against 
King Charles. Is it possible that you do not realize how 
futile such a rising would have been? You would have 
caused a little trouble, your army would have been disposed 
of, and you would have died a traitor’s death on Tower 
Hill.” 

“I am like to do that now!” groaned the wretched young 
man. 

“Not at all. That is why I have sought you out to-day. 
Because His Majesty hath a great affection for you in spite 
of your conduct, I must help you to evade justice.” 

“Do not trust him, sir!” said Grey sharply. 

“I shall not. I’ll listen to no more of his advice!” 

Roxhythe bowed. 

“In that case I’ll take my leave, sir.” 

Up started Monmouth. 

“No, no! Come back, Roxhythe! Come back! What 
is it I must do?” 

“Highness, pray do not—” 

“Silence, Grey! Roxhythe, help me!” 

“A warrant is out for your arrest, sir—” 

“Curse you! Do I not know it?” 

“—for your arrest. So I counsel you to go into hiding, 
not in London. When this storm has abated, surrender 
yourself to His Majesty, and implore his mercy.” 

“I shall surrender myself now! at once!” 

“You will be very ill-advised, sir. Evidence is too strong 
against you. Much of it will be withdrawn in a while and 
you can with safety surrender. For the present, go.” 

Monmouth stood irresolute. 

“How do I know that you are not trying to ruin me 
entirely? I—” 

“You do not know. But Lord Grey will tell you that I 
am speaking with my accustomed good-sense.” 

Monmouth looked helplessly at Grey who shrugged. 


382 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Is it a message from the King?” asked the Duke, of 
a sudden eager. 

Roxhythe looked at his hands. 

“I must say no,” he replied. 

“That is a curious way of saying it! Are you—bidden 
to—say no?” 

“Is it likely that I shall tell you, sir? You have my 
advice. Act on it or not, as you will. It makes no odds to 
me. What should I gain by your ruin?” He went out. 

“I shall go, Grey.” 

“Shall you, sir?” Grey smiled wanly. “I suppose you 
will. And we—shall stay.” 


CHAPTER VII 


February, 1685 

Lady Frances regarded her cousin thoughtfully. 

“I often wonder, David, how you triumphed.” 

Roxhythe showed signs of interest. 

“When? And how?” 

“When Russell died, and Essex killed himself.” 

Roxhythe relapsed into boredom. 

“Old history, my dear.” 

“But none the less puzzling. At the time you would say 
naught. Now it should be different. All those enemies to 
the King are gone; there is no danger of Exclusion. How 
did you do it?” 

“It was the King his triumph.” 

“Undoubtedly. But also yours.” 

“I am gratified, of course. But why was it my triumph?” 

“Roxhythe, am I a fool?” 

“You are wiser than the most of your sex, my dear.” 

She made a little grimace. 

“You are more than kind! Well, I am not a fool. Never 
have you succeeded in deceiving me, less than ever now. 
Why does Halifax become as stone when one speaks your 
name? Why does Sunderland grind his teeth? Why do 
Howard’s cheeks grow red?” 

“Do they?” asked Roxhythe. “How amusing!” 

“No. Why do all these things happen?” 

“In truth, I am too powerful.” 

“Why are you too powerful? What have you done to 
cause their enmity? You put a spoke in their wheels.” 

“Several spokes.” 

“You helped to overthrow Shaftesbury, you overthrew 
the Exclusion, you ruined Monmouth.” 

“It seems I am omnipotent. But I did not ruin 
Monmouth.” 


388 


384 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Oh, I know he was forgiven, but he had to leave the 
country for all that.” 

“It was the King his will.” 

“Roxhythe, tell me plainly: were you one of Monmouth’s 

band?” 

“Is it likely?” 

“It is more than likely that you counterfeited the better 
to undo him.” 

“Dear, dear!” said Roxhythe. 

“David, I know that it must have been so. Every man 
mistrusts you, yet dare not cross you. You have tricked 
and betrayed; I am sure of it.” 

“In that case there is no more to be said.” 

“You admit it?” 

“I admit nothing.” 

“Neither do you deny. That tells me all I want to 
know. I am fearful for you, David.’ 

“Odds life! Why?” 

“There is no one will uphold you save the King.” 

“Am I like to require upholding?” 

Lady Fanny did not smile. 

“I think so. Roxhythe, you have sacrificed all for 
Charles. It was weak.” 

My lord was genuinely astonished. 

“Weak? What next?” 

“I know ’tis a surprising thought. Christopher was 
stronger than are you.” 

“ Cordieu, why am I weak?” 

“David, when you were young, and I was a child, you 
were a soldier. You fought at Worcester. You were honest 
then, and you played one game alone. Gradually you 
dabbled in intrigue; at last you quitted the army. From 
that moment you changed. You forgot the soldier in 
yourself, overcome by your love for Charles. You put 
honour and good faith behind you. You sank yourself for 
Charles.” 

“This is enthralling! Proceed!” 

“In ’60 you came with him to England. Since that day 
you have never once played an honest game.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


385 


“One moment! I have played a consistent game.” 

“Consistent in that it was always for one man. Never a 
straightforward game. You intrigued with Louis—led him 
to think that you worked in his interest. You are no longer 
received at the Louvre because Louis discovered that your 
fair promises were empty, that you were not to be trusted. 
You betrayed Shaftesbury; you betrayed Monmouth, 
Russell and all those others. All for one man. I do admit 
that you have ever worked for Charles, and for that much 
will doubtless be forgiven hereafter. But, David! You 
have sacrificed truth, honour, patriotism for man. You 
may look at it in what light you will, but always it will 
be a weakness—a shame!” 

“Will it?” said Roxhythe, unperturbed. “It is very 
sad.” 

“You will regret it, David.” 

“If you think that, Fanny, you do not know me.” 

She shrugged. 

“Perhaps I do not. Will it not prey on your mind that 
you brought about the deaths of men who were innocent— 
just to gratify the whim of your master?” 

“Not in the least. Who are these innocent men?” 

“Russell and Essex. Do you think I did not know them? 
I knew them well. In Monmouth’s cause they may have 
been, but in a plot to murder Charles, never! All that 
lying, worthless evidence .... who helped to concoct 
it? Methinks I descry your hand. And Stafford; could 
you not have induced Charles to save him?” 

“No.” 

She shrugged again. 

“It may be so. But could you not have saved Russell?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“And yet you did not. I can find it in my heart to pity 
you, David.” 

“Then I beg you will not. I regret nothing. My whole 
life has been at the disposal of the King. Am I to regret 
that?” 

“It is for you to say. I had thought so, certainly. I 
tell you, David, Christopher chose the better part. 


386 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“And what is he now?” 

“He is an honest man. He fought against losing his 
honour, his manhood, even as you must have fought, long, 
long ago. You gave way to inclination; Chris won his 
battle. He would not sacrifice all that was right and true 
for one man. Don’t think that it was easy for him to leave 
you! I watched that struggle, and I know. Now he has 
found happiness. He is with his regiment; he works 
openly, honestly. I don’t say that he has ever regained the 
same bliss that he once knew, but he is at peace, because 
he knows that he chose rightly. He may not have won 
power, but he has friends—and trust. You have power, but 
for how long will it last? No man trusts you.” 

Roxhythe turned his head to look at her. He was faintly 
amused. 

“Quite a homily. Yet if I had to choose again I would 
choose the same path.” 

“Would you, David? Are you not lonely?” 

“I am not.” 

“Then I can say nothing more. I suppose you think me 
very officious.” 

“My dear, you are at liberty to say what you will to me, 
but don’t seek to reform my ways. Do you expect me to 
repent my evil life and weep?” 

At last she smiled. 

“You would not be Roxhythe an you did,” she said. 

“And you would thoroughly despise me.” 

“I suppose I should. I cannot help liking you—perhaps 
because I too have lived in intrigue. In truth, David, we 
are old and wicked.” 

“My sweet Fanny, I am not yet fifty, and you—” 

“Don’t! I cannot bear to think how old I am!” 

“—are not yet forty-five. We are in our prime.” 

“Are we? Roxhythe, do you ever hear from Chris?” 

“At rare intervals. Our interests lie apart.” 

“Do—you ever—miss him?” 

“I really have not given the matter a thought,” said 
Roxhythe, suddenly languid. He rose. “I must go. I 
have to visit Lord Wildmay. Have you observed his wife?” 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


387 


No, she said. “But I can see that you have.” 

The door flew open. An agitated gentleman came in. 
He did not heed Lady Frances who stared at him in great 
hauteur. Fie went straight to Roxhythe, breathless. 

My lord—I have searched for you everywhere!” He 
paused, and spoke lower. “You must come to the palace 
at once! 

Roxhythe’s hand tightened slowly on his comfit-box. 

“What is it, Chiffinch?” 

Lady Frances drew nearer. 

What is the matter? Why is my lord so instantly 
required?” 

Chiffinch hesitated. 

“Madam — I trust to your discretion — the King — is 

ill” 

Roxhythe picked up his hat. 

“You’ll excuse me, Frances. I will come, Chiffinch.” 

“Make haste, sir! They—they fear—he cannot—live!” 
He turned away, hiding his grief. 

Lady Frances went very white. 

“Oh—! Mr. Chiffinch! Roxhythe, go quickly!” She 
turned towards him and found that she was addressing 
space. Roxhythe had gone. 

* ******** 

The room was full of people. The physicians were 
consulting together by the window; James stood by the 
fireplace with the Earl of Feversham. When Roxhythe 
entered he turned, frowning. My lord did not glance in 
his direction. He went quietly to the great bed where lay 
his master. Charles’ eyes were closed; his face was 
ghastly; one hand lay on the sheet. Roxhythe lifted that 
hand tenderly and kissed it. 

The King’s eyes opened. With an effort he smiled. 

“This is the end, Davy.” He spoke feebly, little above 
a whisper. 

“Have courage, Sir. This is not the end.” 

The smile lingered. 

“I shall not be sorry, Davy. In—truth, my spirit has— 


383 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

not been at rest—this many a day. Stay by me.” His eyes 
closed. 

The day wore on. One after another the surgeons 
attended him. He was unconscious, but towards evening 
he came to himself and seemed better. 

Several divines sat with him during the night; the Duke 
of York scarcely left the bed-chamber. Roxhythe sat 
beside the bed, watchful, immovable. 

Charles hardly opened his eyes. He was suffering great 
pain, but no complaint passed his lips. 

On the second day news came of the nation’s grief. 
During these last years Charles had regained all his old 
popularity. The people were filled with dismay at his 
illness; prayers were read for him in every church. 

On the fourth day of his illness it was thought that the 
King would recover, and London rejoiced. Suddenly 
there was a relapse and the physicians knew that they could 
not save him. 

At sight of her husband’s sufferings, the Queen had 
fainted and had been forced to retire. 

When the news came that the King was dying, the 
Duchess of Portsmouth had an interview with M. Barillon, 
as a result of which M. Barillon spoke long and earnestly 
to the Duke of York. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury had urged the King to 
receive the Sacrament. Charles seemed sunk in apathy. 

Thomas Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, fared no 
better. 

Then came James to the bedside, and ordered everyone 
to stand back. He spoke quietly to his brother. 

“Yes—yes! with all my heart!” gasped Charles. 

The Duke whispered again. The King’s answer could 
not be heard. 

My Lord Roxhythe was speaking to M. Barillon when 
James approached. He turned to the Duke. 

“Your Grace should seek out the Count of Castel 
Melhor.” 

James frowned. 

“There should be some Englishman.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


389 


“There is not!” interposed Barillon eagerly. “The 
Count will find a confessor.” 

“One who cannot speak English. To what avail?” 

“It is almost the only chance,” said Roxhythe. “Where 
will you find a priest these days?” 

James hurried out. Roxhythe went out also. 

The Count promised to find a confessor, but not one was 
forthcoming who could speak enough English or French. 
James was distracted. Then came Roxhythe. 

“Do you remember Huddleston, sir?” 

“No!” snapped James. “I want no riddles now!” 

Roxhythe looked his scorn. 

“I offer you none. I speak of the man who saved the 
King’s life after Worcester.” 

“That man!” James started. “Is he a priest?” 

“Something approaching it. I have taken him to Castel 
Melhor who will see that he is well instructed. He is 
willing to shrive the King.” He went back to the bedside. 

“He is very cold,” remarked M. Barillon. “Ma foi! 
I do not understand you Englishmen.” 

“I thank God we are not all like Roxhythe,” answered 
James curtly. He left the room. 

Later the room was cleared, only Feversham and 
Granville remaining, and Chiffinch brought Huddleston, 
disguised, by a back way. 

For nearly an hour the door to the King’s chamber 
remained inexorably closed. Glances were exchanged in 
the outer room, full of significance. Then again the door 
was opened and everyone was allowed to enter. 

The King’s children were brought to receive his blessing, 
but the absent Monmouth’s name never once passed his 
lips. 

During the night Charles regained some of his old 
urbanity. He sent messages to the Queen, and recom¬ 
mended several people to his brother’s care. He even 
contrived to crack a joke. 

The dawn came. Roxhythe was kneeling by the bed, the 
King’s hand in his. His face was a mask; he seemed not 
to notice anyone in the room save his master. During the 


390 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


night Charles had spoken with him in broken, laboured 
whispering. No one knew what he had said. His feeble 
voice reached the favourite’s ears alone, and not even 
James, watching jealously, could catch a syllable. He 
had only seen Roxhythe kiss the King’s hand again and 
again. 

The light crept in at the windows. Charles ordered 
that the curtains should be drawn apart that he might see 
the day once more. Very shortly after, speech left him. 

The slow hours crept on. Once the King’s eyelids 
flickered, and Roxhythe felt the faint pressure of his hand. 
He bent over it, his face hidden. 

Charles became unconscious. It was now only a matter 
of hours. 

The Duke of York came and went; from time to time 
the physicians took the King’s pulse. Nothing further 
could be done for him. 

Drearily the moments ticked away. Except for the 
whispering of the men by the fireplace there was no sound. 

M. Barillon jerked his head towards the still, kneeling 
figure by the bed. 

“I think he feels it.” 

Feversham sneered. 

“As much as he feels anything. It means his downfall.” 

“Perhaps,” said Barillon. “Perhaps.” 

It was nearly noon. Dr. Shortt drew near the bed, bend¬ 
ing over the King. He straightened himself and looked 
across at the other surgeons. They came to his side . . . 

Dr. Shortt came away from the bed. 

“Gentlemen!” 

Everyone turned anxiously. The Duke was with the 
other physicians. 

“Gentlemen, the King is dead.” Shortt walked away to 
the window, blowing his nose. 

There was a long silence. The Duke came away from 
the great four-poster, his face set. He went out quickly. 

Roxhythe held the cold hand still. He had made no 
movement all through; it was doubtful if he had heard the 
sentence. Barillon looked at him curiously for a moment. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


391 


Then he went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Milor’ . . He spoke gently. 

Roxhythe looked up. His face was drawn and grey. 

“Milor’ . . . you heard?” 

Roxhythe stared before him. 

“Ay. I heard.” The level voice did not tremble. 

“Eh bien!” Before this coldness M. Barillon’s gentle¬ 
ness fled. He withdrew. 

Once more my lord bent over the lifeless hand, raising 
it to his lips. There was no answering pressure now. For 
a long while he held it there, taking his last farewell. 
Then he rose and looked into the beloved composed 
features. 

He turned, and faced the room. No one spoke. Even 
Feversham could not sneer. 

The hard eyes travelled slowly round the room. Without 
a word my lord went to the door. 

So he left Whitehall, which had been almost his home 
for so many years. Never again would he willingly cross 
its threshold. The King was dead. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The Losing Game 

“Madam, my lord sees no one.” 

Lady Frances stamped. 

“I tell you I am his cousin! I will enter!” 

The footman held his ground. 

“I crave your ladyship’s pardon, but I dare not admit 
you.” 

Lady Frances compressed her lips. 

“I will enter.” 

“My lady—” 

“Stand aside. I must see John.” 

The footman’s face cleared. He conducted Lady Frances 
to a great empty room at the back of the house. Presently 
Roxhythe’s old servant came to her. Lady Frances sprang 
up. 

“John, how is he?” 

“Well, your ladyship, but sick at heart.” 

“He—he does not—seek to—take his life?” 

John read her four. 

“That is not my lord’s way, madam.” 

“I have been so afraid . . . May I see him?” 

“I think he will not receive you, madam.” 

“Ah, but ask him! Tell him ’tis I, Lady Fanny, who 
begs he will let me speak with him.” 

John was irresolute. 

“I hardly dare, madam—” 

“Yes, yes!” 

John bowed. 

“I will ask him, madam.” 

When he had gone Lady Frances paced up and down the 
room, gripping her fingers nervously. 

Roxhythe entered quietly. He was dressed all in black; 

392 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


393 


his face was very pale, but his eyes were the same as ever, 
soft and hard by turns, always inscrutable. 

“I am indeed honoured, Fanny.” He bowed. “Do 
you need my services?” 

Frances went to him and took his hands. 

“David—my poor David—” 

“No,” said Roxhythe, passionless. “Not that.” He 
withdrew his hands. 

“David, may not I—even I, who have ever been your 
friend—may not I—try to comfort you?” 

“I want no pity. You cannot comfort me.” 

“Dear, won’t you trust me? Can’t you let me see your 
real self?” 

Roxhythe kissed her finger-tips. 

“You are very kind, my dear. No.” 

Lady Frances was silent. She realized that that impene¬ 
trable mask would not be dropped for her. 

“I am sorry, David. What are you going to do?” 

“In what way?” asked Roxhythe. 

“Come and sit down!” she commanded. “I know that 
you will not be received at Whitehall. James hates you.” 

Roxhythe smiled. 

“My dear, if I chose I could hold James ’neath my 
thumb.” 

“How?” she asked, incredulous. 

“James is weak,” said Roxhythe. “In time I could be as 
great under him as I was under—His Majesty.” 

“It would mean truckling to him.” 

“No.” 

“You know best. So you’ll do that?” 

“Oh, no!” he replied. “I shall not do that.” 

“It were a losing game,” she said. 

“Any game I choose to play now is that. I desire to have 
naught to do with Whitehall.” 

Lady Frances hesitated. Then she turned to him. 

“David, you must know that your day is over. I have 
come partly to warn you. I believe James will strike you. ’ 

“Probably,” said Roxhythe. “On what score?” 

“Your share in the Monmouth plot.” 


394 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I am expecting that.” 

“You are armed?” 

“I am still Roxhythe,” said my lord. 

Hardly a fortnight after the King’s death, my Lord 
Sunderland waited on Lord Roxhythe at Bevan House. He 
was conducted to the library, and there Roxhythe joined 
him, a sombre figure in black and silver. 

He swept Sunderland a deep bow. 

“I am honoured,” he drawled. 

Sunderland returned the bow stifflv. 

“My lord, I am come on an unpleasant errand.” 

“I thought it could not be solely for the pleasure of 
seeing me. Pray be seated!” 

Sunderland remained on his feet. 

“I am come at the command of His Majesty who bids 
me—advise you—to leave the country.” 

Roxhythe laughed gently. 

Sunderland’s sharp face crimsoned. 

“It is no laughing matter, my lord! King James knows 
how deeply you were implicated in the Monmouth plot.” 

“Then why does he not arrest me?” asked Roxhythe. 

“He wishes to be lenient. So he advises you to leave the 
country.” 

“Very kind. Pray thank him for me.” 

“And you will go?” 

“Not at all.” 

Sunderland stared. 

“You are very cool, sir!” 

“I see nothing to be hot about.” 

“Do you realize that you stand in danger of imprison¬ 
ment?” 

“No,” said Roxhythe. 

Sunderland sat down. 

“I assure you that you do.” He met his lordship’s 
enigmatical smile challengingly. But his eyes betrayed 
uneasiness. 

“It’s very interesting,” said Roxhythe. “You may be 
sure that I shall not seek to evade arrest.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


395 


Sunderland fidgeted. 

“You would do well to leave the country,” he repeated. 

The smile grew more amused. 

“My Lord Sunderland, you have ever commanded mine 
admiration. Your astuteness is quite astonishing. I would 
advise you to employ it now.” 

Sunderland rose. 

“I fail to understand you, sir.” 

“Yes?” said Roxhythe, always polite. “A pity.” 

“I can only repeat my message:—you would do well to 
leave the country.” He walked to the door. 

“Your solicitude is charming, but it so happens that I 
should do better to await arrest.” 

My Lord Sunderland departed in high dudgeon. He held 
a consultation with my lady. 

“That man is dangerous.” 

My lady studied herself in a silver-backed hand mirror. 

“Roxhythe. Have you but just discovered it?” 

“He knows too much. He laughs at my warnings.” 

The Countess laughed long and low. 

“My good Sunderland, he holds you in the hollow of 
his hand!” 

“Because of my share in the Orange business. Curse 
the man, I never trusted him!” 

“It was a pity that you ever took such an interest in the 
Orange cause. The time was not then. You had best have 
a care. My lord knows that your position is precarious 
since you voted for the Exclusion.” 

Sunderland was plunged in thought. 

“If James had him arrested for the part he played in 
the Monmouth affair, he will accuse me of trafficking with 
the Orange. There are many who would support him.” 

“Therefore he must not be arrested,” said my lady. She 
re-arranged the laces at her bosom. 

“He must be very sure of his position to refuse to quit the 
country,” mused the Earl. “I wonder, has he written 
authority from Charles for his dealings in the plot? We 
know that it was by Charles his wish that he joined 
Monmouth.” 


396 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Did Roxhythe hint at that?” 

“It may have been. He was very secret.” 

“Then I do not think he has authority,” said the 
Countess. 

“But it might be well to tell the King that he has.” 

“So I think. And yet—we do not want him in England.” 

“My dear Sunderland, the man could ruin you. It 
would never do to arrest him.” 

“He may ruin me in any case. He was deep in Halifax 
his confidence at first.” 

“If he discloses that he ruins himself. He would only 
do it if he were accused of the Monmouth plot.” 

“In fact, it is a threat.” 

“A powerful one,” smiled my lady. “He is a great man 
still. Placate him.” 

“God’s life, I want no dealings with him!” 

“You are sometimes a fool, Robert. He would be 
useful.” 

“Tchah! In what way?” 

“In many ways.” Her ladyship yawned delicately. “If 
he chose, he could ingratiate himself with James, who is 
swayed this way and that. With his help you could gain the 
power you lack.” 

“I can gain it myself in time. James will forget the 
Exclusion. When has Roxhythe ever worked with any 

Q 5? 

man r 

“But the King is dead now,” said her ladyship gently. 

An invitation came from the Countess of Sunderland to 
the Marquis of Roxhythe. Would he wait on her at his 
convenience? 

Roxhythe laid the note down. 

“Is it worth while?” he pondered. 

Power was within his grasp. And yet . . . What did 
he want with it? He had no wish to serve James. All 
these years he had plotted and worked for Charles. Now 
Charles was dead, and life held nothing more for him. In 
fact, he was tired of life. Why not go into exile? Why 
remain in this accursed land of memories? He was 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


397 


Roxhythe . .. All these men wanted to see him fall. 
Well . . . they should not have that pleasure. He had 
never played the coward’s part . . . Yet what did he 
want with Sunderland? He had no desire to meddle in 
politics. James could go to destruction in his own way. 
There was Monmouth .... By God, what could he not 
make of Monmouth if he chose! Monmouth was weak; 
he could be influenced. My lord fully believed that he 
could bring Monmouth to the throne. To what avail? 
He had no interest in the Duke—no interest anywhere. 
Why trouble to intrigue for that puny youth? It would 
mean work, hard work. And his master had not wished 
Monmouth to come to the throne. 

There was the Orange. . . . No, by heaven! William 
mistrusted him. And William wanted no help. William 
was a man, even as he was. A man who stood alone. 
Alone! .... Well—why not? Why not use Sunderland 
to raise himself to his former level? Return to Whitehall 
.... Why not? Was he to turn sentimental now, after 
all. these years? 

Whitehall .... packed with bitter-sweet memories. 
Whitehall .... The King’s closet .... No. 

Suddenly he rose. God, why not submit to arrest? 
Why defend himself? It were an easy way out, after all 
. . .Too easy. And they would not arrest him. They 
dared not. 

He picked up Lady Sunderland’s letter. Little less than 
a summons. Mordieu, who were the Sunderlands to con¬ 
descend to him? He flung the letter into the fire. He 
would ignore it. 

’Twere amusing to hold Sunderland in fear. And ii 
they chose to make away with him, so much the better. 
For the present he would continue as he had always done. 
They should not see his misery. 

What was there to-morrow? A supper-party at Buck- 
hurst’s. He would go. Buckhurst was not his enemy. 
And Sedley. And Digby. And Fortescue. There were a 
score of men who liked him for his easy wit; a score of 
men whom he had not harmed. 



398 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


He looked round the quiet room. Memories, naught but 
memories. Where was Christopher? If only Christopher 
were there to-day, seated in his old place .... He bit 
his lip. Christopher had chosen the better part. The 
better part .... The better part . ? 

His eyes grew less hard. Had Christopher chosen the 
better part? 

“No! Mordieu, no!” 



CHAPTER IX 
The Sunderlands 

My Lord Sunderland spoke humbly. 

“Sire, I think it were best to leave Roxhythe.” 

James’ eyes flashed. 

“What now? Does he refuse to leave the country?” 

“He hinted, Sir, that it would serve him better to remain 
in London.” 

James pulled at his lip. 

“What means he?” 

“I think, Sir, that he counts himself safe.” 

“How? What do you know of him? I can convict him 
of his guilt in dealing with Monmouth!” 

“Sire, he dealt with Monmouth that he might the better 
serve King Charles.” 

“Who will believe that?” James was scowling. 

Sunderland looked at him significantly. 

“It may be, Sir, that he hath that which will prove it.” 

James’ brow grew yet more black. 

“Explain yourself!” 

“Sir, almost he told me that he had written authority 
from King Charles.” 

There was a pause. 

“So I am to allow him to plot and work against me?” 
A peevish note sounded in the King’s voice. 

Sunderland was deprecating. 

“I hardly like to advise Your Majesty ...” 

“What is your advice?” 

“Your Majesty has doubtless considered that Roxhythe 
makes a powerful ally.” 

“Do you dare to insinuate that I should placate the 
man?” cried James, wrathfully. 

My lord was shocked. 

“Sir! Such a course were unworthy of you. Roxhythe 
may seek to placate you.” 


399 


400 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“I want no dealings with him!” 

“Then of course Your Majesty must have none. 
Roxhythe is a clever man.” 

“An untrustworthy man!” 

“Your Majesty says very truly. Nevertheless Your 
Majesty might make use of him.” 

“I dislike him!” 

“In that case ...” Sunderland spread out his hands. 
“Why trouble to notice his existence?” He watched the 
King’s face covertly, and noted with satisfaction that this 
seed promised to take root. James said no more. 

The weeks passed slowly by. It was one day in March 
that Lady Sunderland met Roxhythe. 

She went to Lady Duncannon’s soiree. Lady Dun- 
cannon welcomed Whigs and Tories alike, so Wharton 
met Halifax, and the Sunderlands, true Tories, rubbed 
shoulders with every Whig who came. To wit, Lady 
Sunderland, who sat in close conversation with Lord 
Macclesfield, lately concerned in the Monmouth plot. 

A little stir was caused by the entrance of Lord Rox¬ 
hythe. Lady Sunderland gripped Macclesfield’s arm. 

“La! Roxhythe!” 

Macclesfield nodded. 

“He goes everywhere.” 

“What effrontery!” Her ladyship eyed Macclesfield over 
the top of her fan. 

“He is brave,” admitted my lord grudgingly. “Hostesses 
still welcome him.” 

“Well, well!” sighed the Countess. “Gracious! Do I 
see Trenchard?” 

“He is newly arrived in town. It is unwise, of course.” 

"‘Dogged man! I admire such courage. Trenchard!” 

Trenchard came up to her. 

Do I see your ladyship, or do mine eyes deceive me?” 

“You see me. What do you in town?” 

“Perhaps I wanted to meet you.” 

Perhaps you did. Yet it was foolhardy to come.” 

“The risk was worth the issue.” 

Lady Sunderland toyed with her fan. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


401 


“What is the issue?” 

“How can I say, madam? It is for you to prompt 
me.” 

She laid a finger on her lips. 

“You’re over-bold, sir. I can give no promises.” 

“If I am over-bold, madam, you are over-cautious.” 

“Maybe. I am but the mouthpiece of my lord.” 

“Then your lord is over-cautious. Will he come to no 
decision?” 

She looked down at her white hands. 

“He waits. Who shall say which way the wind will 
blow?” 

“You mean?” 

“No more than I say. You ask us to risk all for—it 
may be nothing. We wish to know what we are like to 

• 55 

gam. 

“He whom we will not name comes soon.” 

“Why, we will wait till then!” 

“And after?” 

“Who knows?” she smiled. “Must I promise?” 

“You will not. But do you hold out—hope?” 

“There is always hope,” she parried. ‘‘Have you seen 
who is here to-night?” 

He frowned. 

“Ay. Once bit, twice shy.” 

“But the King is dead,” said my lady. 

“I’d have no dealings in that quarter. Unhappily I am 
otherwise commanded.” 

She leaned towards him. 

“Mark my words, Trenchard. In Roxhythe you gain a 
powerful ally.” 

“I know it. But who shall trust him after what he did ? 

“Have I not said?—The King is dead.” 

He shrugged. 

Later in the evening Roxhythe passed Lady Sunderland’s 
couch. She beckoned to him, and he had, perforce, to go 
to her. 

“Come and talk to me,” she invited. “I am very for¬ 
giving, am I not?” 


402 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Are you?” said Roxhythe. He sat down. “Why?” 

“You did not answer my note.” 

“Did I not?” 

“You’ll say you had forgot that I had written! I was 
minded to be honest with you. Alack, the time has 
passed!” 

He regarded her languidly. 

“Honesty is a virtue which becomes not your sex, my 
dear.” 

“True!” She cast up her eyes. “ ’Tis our sweet decep¬ 
tion that attracts. Heigh-ho! Have you been to White¬ 
hall, my lord?” 

Up went his brows. 

“Lady Sunderland feigns ignorance. Why?” 

She bit her lip. 

“You have not. Have you seen Mr. Trenchard?” 

“He obtrudes himself on one’s notice. A plain man.” 

“I had perceived it. But he has conversation. You 
should speak with him; he would surprise you.” 

“Very little surprises me, madam.” 

“Except me?” She ogled him. 

He looked at her gravely. 

“In truth, madam, I am accustomed to woman’s 
vagaries.” 

“Aha! Yet in some ways I differ from the rest of my 

sex.” 

“In many. So few women have the brain for affairs.” 

She cast down her eyes. 

“Is it a compliment, my lord?” 

“I wonder,” said my lord. 

At that she raised her eyes, deep wells of innocence. 

“Let us be honest!” 

“I thought we had decided that it was not becoming, 
madam?” 

“But let us essay it. Do you dislike my poor 
Sunderland?” 

Roxhythe bowed. 

“I have a great admiration for Lord Sunderland’s 
cunning.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


403 


“Perhaps that feeling is reciprocated,” she answered. 
“You should have speech with my lord.” 

“Why, then, there are two whose acquaintance you bid 
me cultivate. Your lord, and Trenchard. A strange 
couple.” 

She laughed. 

“Are they not? But I do not think I bade you speak 
with both at once.” 

“To speak with them separately were too tedious, 
madam.” 

“Tedious?” 

“I weary of the same subject.” 

“Would both say the same things, think you?” 

“Since you advise me to speak with both it seems likely, 
madam.” 

“So you will eschew their company?” 

“I shall not seek them out.” 

“Ah! And if they seek you out?” 

“I shall count myself singularly honoured, no doubt. 
“I wonder what you mean by that?” she said. 

“So do I,” smiled Roxhythe, and left her. 

My lady was thoughtful. She went home early to meet 

her lord. 

Sunderland entered her boudoir. ?? 

“You are very opportune,” said my lady. “I want you. 
“Good lack!” exclaimed Sunderland. “What ails 

you?” 

She curled her lip at him. 

“I am not grown maudlin of a sudden, Spencer, rest 
assured. I have worked to-night. 

He sat down. 

“Let’s hear it, my dear.” 

“I have had speech with Roxhythe. Also with 
Trenchard.” 

“Oddsbody! Is Trenchard in town?” 

“Ay, and wants an answer.” 

“What said you?” .,11 

“I told him that we should wait until we might clearly 

see the result. He asked for hope. I gave him that. 


404 THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 

She smiled slowly. “Monmouth desires to treat with 

Roxhythe.” _ M 

“It was to be expected. What is Roxhythe’s attitude?’ 
“I cannot tell. He is to be feared, Sunderland.” 

“Ay. I’d think seriously of Monmouth if Roxhythe were 
to take charge of his affairs.” 

“So would a-many others. Roxhythe has the cool sagac¬ 
ity that Monmouth lacks. He would change the whole 
complexion of the matter.” 

Sunderland tapped his teeth with one finger-nail. 

“H’m. I do not think he will join Monmouth.” 

“No, but have you thought what else he might do?” 
“Warn James? Ay.” 

My lady rose, drawing her wrapper about her. 

“I’ve given you something to rack your brains over,” 
she said, and laughed. “You would not be the man you are 
if you had not me to wife.” 

“I don’t deny your intelligence,” he retorted. 

********* 

When Mr. Trenchard waited on Lord Roxhythe he went 
straight to the point. 

“My lord, once you betrayed us.” 

Roxhythe paused. He was in the act of pouring out a 
glass of wine. 

“I did not know you had come to indulge in reminis¬ 
cences,” he remarked. 

“Nor have I. You betrayed us to your master. Perhaps 
1 do not blame you.” 

“How magnanimous!” Roxhythe handed him the glass. 
“Thank you. Well, now you have no master. Things 
have changed. Papist James was never to your taste.” 
He paused. Roxhythe was sipping his wine, and did not 
speak. “Things have changed. His Highness remembers 
that you aided him to escape when our plot was exploded. 
Have you still a fondness for him?” 

“Had I ever?” asked Roxhythe, mildly surprised. 

“It is for you to say. Have you ever considered that 
His Highness might—plot again?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


405 


“I never consider the obvious,” said my lord. 

“Then have you considered that it might be to your 
advantage to—plot with him?” 

“I have not,” said Roxhythe rather drily. 

“But then you do not consider the obvious, do you?” 
“No more than I consider the impossible.” 

“Is this impossible?” 

“Say, rather, ludicrous.” 

Trenchard flushed. 

“His Highness offers you—a place of command if you 
will join him.” 

“Delightfully vague,” commented my lord. 

“Prove yourself, sir, and I may safely promise a high 
place.” 

“It seems that His Grace is afraid of me,” murmured 
Roxhythe. 

“What is there to be afraid of?” sneered Trenchard. 
“Why does he want me so urgently?” 

“He wants all men.” 

“Oh? You take quite the wrong tone with me, you 
know. I do not like the offer.” 

“You like the offer but not the way in which I make it?” 
“Perhaps even that.” 

“I thought so. Let me tell you that His Highness begs 
you will join him in Holland.” 

“I think the climate would not agree with me.” 

“Does the English climate suit you so well?” 

“I think it will.” Roxhythe played with his rings. 
Trenchard curbed his impatience. 

“What is your objection to my offer?” 

“It is altogether too vague. What prospects has His 
Grace?” 

“Do you expect me to tell you that?” 

“Do you expect me to join you in the dark? If 
Sunderland would not, how should I?” 

The chance shot found its mark. Trenchard sprang up. 
“What do you know of Sunderland?” 

My lord smiled. 

“What more do you know?” cried Trenchard. 


406 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Again my lord smiled. If the weight within him were 
less he could enjoy this game. He essayed another shot. 

“I might mention the name of a Scotsman,” he said. 

“If you know that Argyle is with us, what more do you 
want?” 

“Nothing,” yawned my lord. “So I’ll give you good- 

day.” 

“You will not join us?” 

“It is too much trouble,” apologized his lordship. 
“Convey my respects to His Grace of Monmouth.” 

He bowed his guest out and returned to the library. 

He had flung away that last chance; his master had not 
wished Monmouth to come to the throne. As to Sunder¬ 
land—pah! He wanted no power under any man; his day 
was done. He was only waiting now until he could join 
his King. 

His glance fell on his gold comfit-box, given him by 
Charles. In diamonds was written on the lid:— 
“Roxhythe: C.R.” 

He picked it up, a smile that was more terrible than tears 
upon his lips. Slowly his hand clenched on it; his face 
had grown very grey. He sat down, resting his arms on 
the table, gazing dry-eyed at the jewelled box in his hand. 
He was still smiling, looking back across the years. 

. So we are linked together, Davy, you and I.” 

“Always, Sir. I stand or fall with you.” 

“And always you had my love, David ...” 

There was a long, long silence. The proud head sank 
over my lord’s hands; the comfit-box was pressed to his 
lips. 

“Ah, Sire . . . Sire . . .!” whispered Roxhythe. 


CHAPTER X 


The Shot 

Lady Fanny turned the page. 

“ . . . My Heart bleeds for my deare Master. Give him 
Love, and Tell him howe Grately I do feel for him. The 
Newes of King Charles His Deathe shocked me beyond 
Measure. I dare not think what must be my Lord His 
Feelings. Howe I wish thatt I might be with Him nowe! 
Alas, it cannot be, but I am looking forward eagerly to the 
Day when I may once againe press His Hand. I do 
hope to come to England soone for a shortt Time. I 
cannot tell you howe I am longing to see You once more. 
I thank Heaven I came to Holland, for I have found 
Peace, and, in a Measure, Happiness. But after these 
Many Yeares my whole being is crying out to see You 
againe, and my deare Lord. I live for the Moment when 
I shall once more hear His Beloved Voice ...” 

“I wish he might come now,” sighed Frances. “Indeed, 
indeed, Roxhythe needs him.” 

********* 

Mr. Trenchard held counsel with Mr. Wildmay. 

“Roxhythe knows too much. He will not join us.” 

“And Sunderland?” 

“Wavers. I think he will always play for safety. He 
will hazard naught. But Roxhythe . . . He paused, 
pursing his lips. “He knows too much.” 

“What does he know?” 

“That Argyle is coming, and that Sunderland is 
irresolute.” 

“Gad, Trenchard! If he splits-!” 

“He will. Somehow he must worm himself back into 
favour at Court. What surer way than to warn James 
’gainst us? Since he refuses to join us that must be his 
intention.” 


407 



408 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Unless he is with Sunderland, and waits.” 

“He is not with Sunderland; I know that. And I mis- 
liked his bearing: ’twas a thought too sinister.” 

Wildmay was dismayed. 

“What then is to be done?” 

Trenchard drew his chair a little closer. 

«•***•*>**** 

Across the ball-room Lady Frances espied her cousin. 
She beckoned him. 

“You, David?” 

“Why not?” he asked. 

“No reason. I am very glad to see you. I have a 
message for you.” 

“From Chris . . . What does he say?” 

“Yes, from Chris. How did you know?” 

“I suppose I was thinking of him. How is he?” 

“Very well. He sends his dear love to you and wishes 
he might be at your side during this—unhappy time.” 

Roxhythe shook his head. 

“Too late,” he said. 

“Yes. He hopes to come to England soon, though, and 
bids me tell you that—well, I’ll give you his own words— 
that he is living for the moment when he may once more 
hear your beloved voice.” 

Roxhythe’s eyes softened. 

“Does he say that? And is he coming soon?” 

“So he says. You—you will like to see him, David?” 

“Can you ask? After seven years . . . And he still 
loves me. He is very faithful.” 

“Dear Chris! Yes, he’s faithful. He left his whole 
heart with you.” 

“I had thought he would have recalled it long since— 
for little Hook-nose.” 

“He writes admiringly of William, but I think he does 
not love him.” 

“Foolish. William would make a fine heroic figure.” 

Fanny drew him closer. 

“Do you think William—will strike at the King?” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


409 


“You are growing treasonable, Fanny. It seems possible. 
But he will only strike at the right moment. There is 
nothing foolhardy about the Orange.” 

“No. I don’t like James. I think that there will he 
trouble.” 

“You are really most unwise, my dear. You will find 
yourself clapped up in the Tower if you speak these 
shocking sentiments aloud,” said Roxhythe. 

“Jasper is most annoyed. I think he hopes for 
William.” 

Roxhythe was amused. 

“I shall enjoy seeing Jasper turned intriguer. But tell 
him to leave Monmouth alone.” 

Frances started. 

“Heavens! Is Monmouth to rise?” 

“I should not he surprised. He planned once—why not 

• O 3? 

again: 

“He could never be King!” 

“Of course he could not. He has not the head.” 

“And Jasper would never support him.” 

“Then all is well.” Roxhythe glanced round the room. 
“I counsel you, Fanny, to remark Mrs. Challis. The 
fair woman with the roguish smile. Yes, with Birchwood.” 
Lady Frances looked, obediently. 

“What of her?” 

“She is rather piquante, is she not?” 

“Am I to believe that you are once again in love?” 
“Oh, no! She serves to distract me for the time.” 
Frances tapped his arm with her fan. 

“David, I am sure you have some dark scheme in mind! 
What do you purpose doing?” She found it quite 
impossible to read his face. 

“You are so inquisitive,” sighed Roxhythe. 

“Belike I am. Do you intend to win James his favour?” 
“If you were a man, my dear, I should offer you my 
comfit-box.” 

She stared. 

“What am I to understand by that?” 

“I forgot. You do not know. It was an old joke of 


410 


THE GREAT ROX1IYTHE 


Saint-Aignan’s. He used to aver that when I wished to 
turn the subject I offered him a sweetmeat.” He smiled a 
little, remembering. She pouted. 

“Then I am snubbed. How hateful of you! I don’t 
want you to go over to James.” 

“Tut-tut! I suppose you would like me to join the 
Orange?” 

“Well! . . . Why not?” 

“ Cordieu , I could name an hundred reasons! Have 
you ever spoken with him?” 

“No. What is he like?” 

“He resembles nothing so much as an iceberg. And his 
Court is composed of Puritanical gentlemen who give 
themselves the airs of small sultans. I wish you had met 
him; it would have amused you.” 

Fanny laughed. 

“I think it would have depressed me! I was never 
Puritanical, David!” 

“No,” he said. “Certainly not that. Do you remember 
the little Vicomte, I wonder?” 

Fanny was not yet too old to blush. 

“David, how dare you? I’ll not be reminded of my 
youthful indiscretions! How frightened I was to be sure! 
Papa was so strict for all his wickedness.” 

“You were perturbed. So was the Vicomte.” 

She chuckled behind her fan. 

“Luckily you were in Paris at the time. I was so thank¬ 
ful!” 

“So was not the Vicomte.” 

“No. Dear me, how long ago it is! I cried when I 
heard that you had wounded him.” 

“Did you? But then, you were young and foolish.” 

“So I was. And now I am old and foolish. Very 
virtuous, however.” 

Roxhythe nodded. 

“Strange ...” he pondered. “I never thought Jasper 
would have held any fascination for you.” 

“Like to unlike,” she retorted. “We are prosaically 
blissful.” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


411 


<C'' 


UJ 




‘You are. Quite depressing, in fact. Had you married 
me—pouf!” he snapped his fingers. 

‘Oh, I was never as foolish as that!” she said. 

‘Say rather that we were neither of us as foolish as 
that.” 

“You are most objectionable,” she dimpled, and 
beckoned to Sedley who was passing. 


-* 


# 


* 


* 


My lord descended the steps of Lady Mitcham’s house, 
drawing on his gloves. As was always his custom, he 
was leaving the ball early. His coach awaited him. 

It was a fine moonlight night, very still and beautiful. 
My lord stood for a moment on the steps, looking round. 
The door closed behind him. He walked to where his 
coach stood, and there he paused again, looking into the 
shadows by the wall. A little smile that was almost 
triumphant curved his lips. He turned his head. 

“Shoot, my friend.” 

The footman stared at him in amazement. My lord 
stood still. 

Something moved in the shadows. There was a flash, 
a roar, and then smoke. 

The Most Noble the Marquis of Roxhythe fell back into 
the footman’s arms. 

“Touche!” he gasped. “No! Let him—go!” 

The other footman stopped in his pursuit. 

“Let—him go, my lord?” he asked, stupidly. 

“What else, fool?” My lord’s hand was pressed to his 
side. “Take me home!” 

“Sir, you are hurt! I’ll carry you into the house!” 
said William distractedly. 

“No.” Roxhythe held fast to his consciousness. “I 
command—you—take—me—home! ” 


CHAPTER XI 


The Great Roxhythe 

“My lady, there is a lackey from Bevan House who 
desires speech with you.” 

Lady Frances was surprised. 

“So? I’ll come.” She went downstairs. When she saw 
John she smiled. “Well John? You’ve a mess—” ^ She 
stopped short, staring at him. “John! What is it?” 

The man’s face worked. 

“My lady—my master—” he choked. 

Lady Frances drew nearer. 

“Quickly, John! What—what is it?” 

“He is—dying!” John’s voice trembled. “He—desires 
to see you.” 

All the colour ebbed slowly from her face. 

“Good—God! No, no!” 

“He was—shot—last night.” John’s head was bowed. 
“I cannot tell you, madam. He wishes you to come.” 

“Shot! Oh, heaven, ’twas that we heard, then! Yes, 
yes, I’ll come at once! Only wait one moment!” She 
turned, and flew upstairs. 

In three minutes she was back again, seated in the 
coach. She had commanded John to sit with her. Her 
eyes were wide. 

“It was last night? When he left the ball?” 

“Yes, my lady. They—brought him home—uncon¬ 

scious.” 

“Dolts! Fools! Why did they not take him back to 
the house?” 

John brushed his hand across his eyes. 

u It—was not—my lord’s will, madam,” he said simply. 

Lady Frances burst into tears. 

“Can’t they—save him? Surely, surely, it is not 
mortal ? ” 


412 



THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


413 


“Dr. Burnest was with him through the night, madam. 
Nothing—can be done.” 

Lady Frances wept. 

Outside the door of my lord’s room she met the 
surgeon. Eagerly she caught at his arm. 

“Tell me he will live! Oh, he cannot die! He can¬ 
not!” 

Burnest took her hand. 

“I beg you will be calm, Lady Frances. The bullet 
entered a vital part. Don’t grieve my lord!” 

She wiped her eyes. 

“I will be calm. Is he—is he conscious?” 

“Yes, madam, but very weak. He commanded that you 
should be sent for. You’ll not excite him?” 

She drew herself up. 

“Of course I shall not.” 

Burnest opened the door for her. 

My lord lay in bed, raised slightly on pillows. He was 
wrapped in an elegant bed-gown, and he wore his wig. 
His eyes were closed, but he opened them as Frances 
entered. 

He smiled. 

“My dear Fanny—all my difficulties are solved.” 

She bent over him. 

“Dear, wicked Roxhythe!” In spite of herself, tears 
stole down her cheeks. 

Up went his brows. 

“I thought you knew that I could not bear a weeping 
woman?” His voice was full of mockery. 

“Since you cannot weep for yourself, David ...” she 
whispered, and flicked away the tear-drops. 

“Weep? I?” The faint voice was disdainful. “I am 
only too well satisfied.” 

John put a chair for her ladyship. Frances sat down. 

Roxhythe allowed her to take his hand. He was staring 
before him. 

“The . . . welcome end. Gad, but I was glad to see the 
fellow . . . lurking in the shadows! . . . He little knew 
. . . little knew ...” 


414 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


“Who was it, David?” Lady Frances was surprised 
at her own calm. 

“Trenchard. He thought ... I should betray him 
. . . Sapient man.” Suddenly Roxhythe chuckled. “I told 
him ... to shoot. He was ... so surprised . . . he—” 
He broke off, coughing. 

Burnest was at his side in a moment. The handkerchief 
that came away from my lord’s lips was stained red. 

“Sir, I beg you will keep quiet.” 

“No doubt. You want ... to prolong , . . life. 
Unfortunately ... I want ... to end it.” 

“Sir—” 

“My . . . dear Burnest ... we have dealt with . . . 

one another . . . before. Don’t . . . you realize . . . 

the futility of . . . argument?” 

“You were always very stubborn, sir.” Burnest put a 
spoon to his lips, smiling. 

Roxhythe took the restorative. His eyes closed. 

For a long time there was absolute silence. My lord 
lay in a kind of stupor. Presently a deep furrow appeared 
between his brows. He began to speak, muttering. 

“. . . vain . . . regrets! . . . Not I, sir. There 

was . . . never a question ... of it. If you . . . 

think that . . . Fanny . . . you do not . . . know me. 
Always I am Roxhythe. Roxhythe . . . C.R. . . . 

linked together . . . Sire, all my . . . life ...” His 
voice died away. He moved uneasily; his hand was very 
hot. 

“My dear . . . Saint-Aignan! . . . a maker of . . . 
gloves. Blue . . . entwined. Did . . . Colbert tell you, 
Madame?” His eyes opened. They were shining with a 
strange, feverish light. “When . . . you . . . are gone 
. . . nothing matters. The . . . better . . . part. Fools! 
. . . fools! . . . Someone said . . . that. The better . . . 
part! . . . Always your . . . faithful . . . servant, 
Sir.” He struggled up on his elbow. “It is . . . Crom¬ 
well’s lucky day! How . . . could we . . . hope to win? 
Courage, Sir! This is . . . not the end!” 

Burnest put him back on his pillows. 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


415 


“Hush, sir! Be still.” 

He was shaken off. 

“Gentlemen . . . the King . . . is dead! . . . Who 
was it . . . uttered the accursed . . . words? His hand 
... is cold . . . Sire . . . Sire!” 

“Give me that bottle!” 

John put it into his hands, weeping. Burnest measured 
out a spoonful. The mixture trickled between my lord’s 
parted lips. Frances watched in silent agony. 

The brown eyes opened. 

“Fanny . . . why weep? Do you . . . think I . . . 
mind?” 

“My lord, I beg you will not talk!” 

“You . . . intrude . . . Burnest.” The eyes were 
haughty. 

“I am sorry, sir. I am responsible for you, you see.” 

The fine lips curled. 

“No one is responsible . . . for Roxhythe . . . save 
himself. You would . . . oblige me ... by retiring.” 

Lady Frances laid her hand on the surgeon’s. 

“Mr. Burnest, let him have his way. You cannot help 
now.” 

“Madam, I cannot allow him to-” 

“ Mordieu! Am . . . I to be set . . .at naught?” 

“You only excite him. Please, please stand back!” 

Burnest shrugged and walked away. 

“Another ... of those . . . who dislike me. I have 
. . . inspired . . . great love, or great . . . hatred 
. . . never a . . . luke-warm . . . liking, I thank God!” 

Frances stroked his hand. 

“In truth, you are Roxhythe,” she smiled. 

“Always. They . . . would have liked ... to see 
me . . . fall. Had I lived ... I would have shown them 
that Roxhythe . . . can stand . . . alone! But it is 
. . . better so. I am . . . going ... to my master.” 
Again his eyes closed. After perhaps ten minutes they 
opened. They did not see Lady Frances. 

“It is ... no laughing matter, Sir! ... I am . . . 
too old to be . . . ordered ... by petty princelings 



416 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


. . . Thank God ... for Whitehall . . . and my . . . 
own master. Curse . . . the dolt! Why . . . must 
he sit . . . in your place? ... So you will leave . . . 
me, Chris? After all these . . . years. Did you bring 
my mask? . . . You know me . . . very well . . . 
don’t you? You will . . . not stay with me? You 

make too much . . . out of . . . too little. I regret 

. . . nothing . . . The better . . . part . . . the 
better . . . part . . . Cor . . . dieu! I would choose 
the same . . . the same ...” The brown eyes were 
frowning. “Why . . . must you sit . . . in his place? 
Memories . . . only . . . memories . . . What if I did 
. . . lose all? The . . . one friend . . . the one 
friend. . . . Nothing matters . . . save your pleasure, 

Sir. I am . . . busied with . . . your affairs.” Sud¬ 

denly he laughed. “They . . . remind me of . . . 
cabbages! ... a fruitful topic!” He drew his hand away, 
passing it across his eyes. “You remember . . . the 

green hangings . . . don’t you, Chris?” His hand fell 
away. He looked at Lady Frances’ bowed head. “I . . . 
have been . . . dreaming. I thought Chris was . . . 
here. Fanny?” 

“Dear David?” Lady Frances tried to choke the sobs 
that rose to her lips. 

Roxhythe was smiling now. 

“You . . . remember how Chris . . . laughed? It 
always . . . pleased me. He laughed . . . because I 
objected ... to the green . . . hangings. They are 
gone . . . now. I had them . . . changed. It is . . . 
eight years. A . . . long time, my . . . dear.” 

“Yes, David. You still have—me.” 

“Of course. You . . . could never . . . quite . . . 
disown me . . . could you?” 

“I am always—your friend, David. We understand one 
another.” 

The smile grew. 

“But then you . . . are not . . . impenetrable, you 
know!” 

“Am I not? How—you love to—tease me, David!” 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


417 


U Vraiment ... I am a trial. Don’t let Jasper meddle 
. . . in Monmouth’s cause!” 

“I will not.” 

“I . . . ought to send . . . some farewell . . . mes¬ 
sages. I always . . . disliked . . . the heroic pose . . . 
off the stage. Do you . . . remember Crewe?” 

“And the silly wife! That was unlucky, David.” 

“A . . . mistake ... I admit. Give . . . my love . . . 
to Chris. I would I . . . had seen him . . . just once . . . 
again. You . . . won’t believe me . . . but I cared 
. . . for him.” 

“I know that you did, dear. I always knew it. If 
I said hard things I am very sorry!” 

“My dear . . . according ... to your lights . . . 
you spoke . . . rightly. You . . . could not . . . 
understand.” 

She shook her head. 

“We won’t speak of it, David.” 

“We might . . . quarrel . . . an we did. I regret 
... I cannot . . . repent, weeping. It ... is not 
in . . . the part.” He paused, and his hand tightened 
on hers. “I could have . . . regained ... all my lost 
. . . power. It was . . . within my grasp. But it . . . 
was not . . . worth it. You . . . understand?” 

“Perfectly, David.” 

“Your chief . . . attraction. What ... is the . . . 
time?” 

She glanced at the clock. 

“Just after three, dear.” 

“Ah! ... He died ... at noon. I shall not wait 
. . . much longer. I am . . . very content.” The weary 
lids drooped. “I have to . . . thank you . . . for your 
. . . kindness. I knew . . . that you would . . . come. ^ 

“I would have come from the ends of the earth, David.” 

“Happily . . . you were . . . nearer. I should have 
been . . . loth to put you ... to such . . . incon¬ 
venience. It is . . . very dark. Draw the curtains . . . 
further apart! No . . . matter . . .” The whisper 
ceased. 


418 


THE GREAT ROXHYTHE 


Burnest tiptoed to the bed. 

“It is nearly the end,” he murmured in Lady Fanny’s 
ear. “Just sit where you are.” 

She nodded. Her face was drawn. 

John crept up to the bed and knelt beside it, his head 
buried in the coverlet. Lady Frances laid her hand on 
his shoulder. 

“Do not grieve, John,” she said pitifully. “You know 
he would not wish it.” 

Only a strangled sob answered her. Roxhythe moved 
his hand. 

“Devil . . . take you . . . John! What now?” 

John carried the hand to his lips, smothering it with 

kisses 

“My lord! My dear lord!” 

“Chut!” Roxhythe pressed his fingers feebly. “Have 
... a care to him . . . Fanny.” 

“I promise.” 

There was a long, long silence. Nothing broke it save 
the laboured breathing. John was quiet now, clasping my 
lord’s hand. Lady Fanny sat very still. 

Over by the fire was the surgeon, staring into the red 
embers. He did not move. 

Half an hour crept by; yet another. Somewhere out¬ 
side a clock chimed mournfully. 

My lord’s eyes opened. There was a far-away look in 
them not of this world. 

“I must ... to Whitehall. To . . . my little . . . 
master.” Faintly, very faintly came the whisper. His 
beautiful smile curved my lord’s lips. “Sire . . . 
Sire ...” 

The eyelids fluttered, closed. My lord’s hand quivered. 
He gave a deep sigh, full of peace. 

“Only . . . your . . . pleasure . . . Sir . . .” 

His head fell sideways a little on the pillow. The 
smile was still on his lips, but the light had gone out. 

1 C 1.1 

sc 


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